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THE MAID 
OP 

MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


I 


THE MAID OF 
MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

10 ^ 

ikqi 

A STORY OF ANNAPOLIS LIFE 


BY 

GABRIELLE K JACKSON 

»* 

AUTHOR OF 

PEGGY STEWART SERIES, CAPTAIN POLLY OF ANNAPOLIS, 
THREE GRACES SERIES, LITTLE MISS CRICKET 
SERIES, ETC., ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
NORMAN P. ROCKWELL 


NEW YORK 

McBRIDE, NAST & COMPANY 
1912 



Copyriarht, 1912, by 
McBride, Nast <fc Co. 


Published December, 1912 


©C!.A328ni3 


TO THE REAL “SNAP” 

WHOSE LOVE FOR THE 
“LITTLE MOTHER” 

HAS SURVIVED THE SEPARATION 
OF MANY MILES AND 
MANY YEARS. 

G. E. J. 







CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

The Contents of a Bag . 





PAGE 

1 

II. 

The Hall of Inquisition . 





11 

III. 

At Football Practice 





25 

IV. 

In the Yard 





38 

V. 

My Affinity 





53 

VI. 

The Shell-Pink Gown 





66 

VII. 

My Lady's Favor 





79 

VIII. 

On Franklin Field . 





94 

IX. 

The Game and Another . 





108 

X. 

As THE Logs Blazed 





122 

XI. 

Complications . 





140 

XII. 

In Christmas Week . 





154 

XIII. 

At Taps .... 





171 

XIV. 

Good-Bye .... 





184 

XV. 

For or Against . 





197 

XVI. 

Schemes and Counter-Schemes 




207 

XVII. 

Back to Wilmot Hall 





224 

XVIII. 

Up the River 





237 

XIX. 

A Crew Race and a Picnic 





251 

XX. 

Chums and Friends . 





267 

XXI. 

In June Week . 





284 

XXII. 

My Love Came to Me as a Wild Rose 



293 


I 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


like ter bus* wid pride to see de work ob ma 
ban’s!** \,Page 661 Frontispiece ^ 

FACING PAGE 

*‘We just naturally ‘cry for it*, and feel done out 

of half our week-end unless we rally round . 

this hearth-stone.** 20 ^ 

He turned suddenly and looked into the soft eyes. . 248 

“Perhaps I have a talisman which makes me forget 

it,** he said, bending to look into her face. . 260 






THE MAID 
OF 

MIDDIES’ HAVEN 





The Maid of Middies’ Haven 


Chaptee I 

THE CONTENTS OF A BAG 

‘^George! Will that train ever come? I believe I’ve 
held down this confounded seat a full hour. Only 
fifteen minutes? Never!” and the lid was snapped 
together impatiently as the speaker consulted his watch 
for the twentieth time within half as many minutes. 
“Fine thing for a man’s eyes to go back on him just 
at the beginning of football season and send him chasing 
off to Philadelphia to that big gun who won’t do a thing 
but rob him. Hang it all I say!” and the man rose 
from his seat on the platform of the Union Station at 
Baltimore and began pacing up and down, his lips com- 
pressed, but eyes alert and observing all that was taking 
place around him. They were whimsical eyes with lines 
at the outer corners indicating a keen sense of humor. 
In color such a dark gray as to seem almost black when 
the pupils enlarged, and they looked at you fairly and 
squarely with the look that challenges untruth or 
subterfuge and sends them to the right-about. The 
forehead above the eyes was broad and high, indicating 
strength of character and purity of soul. But the 

1 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


mouth was not wholly satisfying. A noted writer says : 
‘‘God Almighty makes all the other features, but a man 
makes his own mouth.” Perhaps as the years passed 
by, this man would perfect the making of his, but in 
the present stage of its formation it certainly lacked 
something. There were more lines of stubbornness and 
self-will than of decision and resolution. Still, taken 
as a whole, the face was fine and strong, with promise 
of much for the future when maturer manhood should 
have brought about a perfect poise. Perhaps a little 
touch of sorrow was needed to give to the man’s char- 
acter the mellowing which would perfect it. Above the 
average height and weight, splendidly set up, and bear- 
ing himself with the carriage which only the training 
and discipline of the service can develop, every line of 
his figure denoted the absolute control of muscles and 
well ordered nerves. 

“Wash’nton Express ! Wash’nton Express !” shouted 
the colored gatekeeper as he pushed back one of the 
gates to admit the passengers from the long train of 
parlor cars rolling into the station, the great engine 
panting and puffing like some huge animal after a des- 
perate run from its pursuers. 

“Wash’nton Limited ! No stops dis side Wash’nton,” 
continued the man in his peculiar vernacular, as the 
passengers descended from the train. A few who were to 
change cars at Baltimore for other points lingered upon 
the platform, — among them the lithe, graceful figure of 
a girl gowned in a perfectly tailored, dark blue, Scotch 
tweed suit, trimmed with black silk braid. A dark blue 


2 


THE CONTENTS OF A BAG 


hat, with a big blue ribbon bow upon it, completed the 
simple toilet. She carried a handbag and an umbrella. 
A porter followed with her suitcase, which bore the 
initials “C. D. H.” She paused in front of one of the 
seats upon the platform, saying: 

“Put my suitcase here, please. You say I must wait 
some time for my train?” The voice was soft, sweet 
and prettily modulated. 

“Yas’m. Mos’ ha’f an hour, m’m,” answered the 
porter as he bobbed acknowledgment of the coin she 
handed him and hurried off. The girl sat down and 
raised her veil. A wealth of dark brown hair shaded an 
oval face and dark brown eyes with exquisitely pencilled 
brows ; a warm olive skin and a straight nose made a 
face quite worth looking at. So thought the young 
man, who paced gravely by and turned to retrace his 
steps within a comfortable range of vision. 

“Hm, feet all right. About number three I should say. 
Ties fit to perfection, and — well — a girl’s stockings ought 
to match her gown. Skirt’s a good length too. Funny 
all girls can’t have their skirts hang like that. This 
up-before-slump'behind kind makes me weary. Nice 
looking girl, trim, up-to-date, and know-what-I’m-doing 
kind. Wonder where she’s going? Mighty pretty 
eyes, and looks as though she’d be good fun and have 
some sense too. But, oh, where in thunder is that 
train.?” and the mental comments came to an abrupt 
end as a whistle sounded in the distance and a train 
swung around the curve. 'Ts this the four o’clock for 
Philadelphia, porter?” 


3 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘No, sah! De fo’ ’clock done broke down at Bowie, 
sah. Dis de local,” answered the porter. 

“O, confound the luck! A local crawling along aU 
that way? Not if I know it. I’ll wait for the four-fifty- 
five express and get there sooner even then. Might be 
worse places to wait after all,” was the whimsical con- 
clusion as the local disgorged its passengers and started 
on its deliberate way for the deliberate city which was 
its objective point. 

“Po’s Cree’k Com’dation! Po’s Cree’k Com’dation! 
All board fo’ Po’s Cree’k !” called the gatekeeper, and 
the trim figure hurried up to him to ask: “What do 
you say? Is this the train for Odenton, where I must 
change for Annapolis?” 

“N’m. N’m. Dis hyer de Po’s Cree’k Com’dation. 
Tek de nex’ gate fo’ Od’nton. Gate number five. Miss.” 

“Thank you,” and grasping her suitcase more firmly 
the girl turned to hurry toward the gate indicated. 

There was a sharp collision as a portly woman with 
a square baby in tow rushed across the platform and 
the square baby sat down with emphasis and dispatch, 
the sudden jar evidently releasixig some sort of an 
internal spring which set in operalion its vocal organs. 
The woman paused only long enough to snatch him up, 
and rush for the gate with her screaming burden under 
her arm, leaving Miss Constance Drake Howland to 
stare blankly at the contents of her handbag, which 
with the sprightliness of such objects when released 
from their proper confines were scattering to the four 
points of the compass, and scattering with such utter 


4 


THE CONTENTS OF A BAG 


abandon that one wondered if each was animated by its 
own little guardian devil. Four timetables. A purse 
and a card case. A pocket-knife and a pencil. A memo- 
randum book. A toothbrush. A box containing choco- 
late cream peppermints, which instantly flew open and 
sent its contents rolling merrily down the platform, 
to the great glee of several small negro boys who 
promptly snatched all they could find and fled. 

There was a smothered laugh just behind the young 
lady, though, luckily for the misguided origin of it, 
she was too perturbed to notice it. A second later a 
hat was politely raised and a voice said most solicit- 
ously : 

‘‘Let me assist you,” as a gray-suited figure dropped 
upon one knee to gather up the contents of that luck- 
less bag and restore them to their discomfited owner. 

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. That dread- 
ful baby did it. He was exactly like a battering ram,” 
and the cheeks, always wearing the tint of a wild rose, 
suddenly became damask. 

“Too bad, but we’ll soon have them all picked up. 
There, that is everything, I think.” 

“Od’nton! Od’nton! Train for Od’nton,’^ shouted 
the gatekeeper. 

“Oh, that is my train and I must hurry. Thank 
you so much for helping me.” 

“Let me carry your suitcase for you. Here, this 
way,” and before she knew what had happened a strong 
arm was piloting her through the rushing crowd, and 
the next moment she was seated in the train, her suit- 

5 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


case at her feet, her umbrella in her hand, that dis- 
graceful handbag lying upon her lap, and Knight 
Errant saying: “I hope you will have no more mis- 
haps,” as he raised his hat and hurried from the train 
at the brakeman’s shout of “All aboard.” 

Constance Howland was on her way to Annapolis, 
there to spend the entire winter with her aunt, Mrs. 
Harold; one of her rare outings since her father’s 
death. But now had come this invitation to spend 
many months from home. It had been very hard for 
her to leave her mother and two younger sisters alone, 
but on the other hand it had seemed unkind to refuse 
“Aunt Janet,” for her husband, a naval officer, had 
been ordered to the Pacific coast and must be absent 
for several months. 

Nearly an hour later Constance alighted from the 
train at Annapolis. 

“Cabe! Cabe! Tote yo’ suitcase.?^ Ca’r yo’ bag? 
Dis hyer way fo’ de buss for’ Wilmot Hall!” shouted 
the sons of Ham as they crowded around her. They 
were the very personification of rags and tatters, for 
not among the entire dozen could enough whole gar- 
ments have been collected to respectably cover one 
individual, but before the bewildered girl had moved 
forward ten steps she was greeted by: 

“Oh, there you are, my girlie. Well, I am glad to 
see you I” and she was gathered into her aunt’s arms. 

“Oh, Aunt Janet, if I’m not glad to get here!” was 
the hearty response to the welcome. 

“Come along to the motor car then. The train, as 

6 


THE CONTENTS OF A BAG 


usual, is late, but we’ll soon be at Wilmot. Yes, bring 
Miss Howland’s suitcase, Joe,” and the next moment 
Constance was being whirled along the streets of the 
quaintest old town she had ever seen ; a town which 
she believed must have wandered into that corner of the 
world hundreds of years ago, and having found it to its 
liking, had forgotten to wander out again and join 
the rushing world beyond. It did not require a great 
stretch of her imagination to picture bewigged gallants 
bowing to Watteau-gowned and powdered-haired dames 
as they were borne along its thoroughfares in their 
sedan chairs. 

‘‘All sorts of frolicing is planned for this week-end, 
dear. Football practice, things to see, the big game, 
the hop, as well as men galore waiting to meet you. 
Are you dead tired?” 

“Not a bit. The journey was not a hard one and 
I got lots of fun out of it. Such a funny thing hap- 
pened at Baltimore. I must tell you about ” 

“Not now,” interrupted Mrs. Harold, “for here we 
are at Wilmot.” 

“Oh, what a dear old place,” cried Constance as the 
motor car drew up at the entrance of a wonderful old 
colonial mansion, which had looked out upon its sur- 
rounding world for nearly two hundred years, the 
very porch and wings showing in the twilight of the 
autumn evening, telling the story of the dignity and 
grandeur of earlier days, for Wilmot Hall had once 
been the seat of a renowned Maryland family. 

A bell boy hurried down to the auto to take the suit- 

7 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

case, and in the doorway a smiling colored woman 
awaited them. 

“Martha, this is your young mistress,” said Mrs. 
Harold; “mind you don’t let her want for a single 
thing.” 

“No’m! I won’t m’m. I looks arter her lak she my 
own baby. Deed I does! Come long wid Martha, 
honey. Yo’s mos’ tuckered out, sure ’nough,” cried 
the stout colored woman, bowing and smiling, a whole- 
some old body in her black gown, immaculate cap and 
exquisitely ironed apron. “Give me yo’ han’bag and 
umbril, Missie. An’ hyer, yo’ Charles, min’ yo’ watches 
out fo’ Miss , Miss , Wha’ yo’ name, honey?” 

“Howland,” was Constance’s very natural answer. 

“N’m, n’m! Mh — mh! I don’ mean yo’ common 
name. I means yo’ given name wha’ we-all gwine know 
yo’ by.” 

. “Constance, then. Is that the right one?” asked 
the girl, smiling into the kind old face. 

“Yas’m, yas’m. Dat’s hit. We-all has ter call our 
own white folks by der given names. Yo’ Charles I Yo’ 
hear me? Miss Cons’ance’s trunk gotter be taken 
right up to her room de ve’y minute dat no-count 
’spressman fotch it.” 

By the time these orders had been given they were 
at the landing of the broad staircase with its wide 
mahogany steps. Constance marveled at her aunt’s 
indifference to the loquacity of the servant. She had 
yet to learn that the Southern negro house servant 
must talk or burst a blood vessel, and that thje true 

8 


THE CONTENTS OF A BAG 


Southern mistress takes no more account of it than 
she takes of the chattering of the chimney swallows 
flittering about the eaves of her home. 

“Dis hyer yo’ room, honey,” announced Martha, 
standing aside for Constance to enter. “My! but yo’ 
done ketched de cinders on dis purty hat,” she con- 
tinued as she removed Constance’s hat. “Nemmine, I 
bresh ’em all off fo’ yo’. Now, lemme tak off yo’ co’t. 
Hum I Jist de livin’ N’York style an’ cut, sure nuf. 
Now wha’ yo’ gwine put on ter wa’r down ter dinner.? 
In yo’ suitcase.? Yas’m, I opens it right way, but fust 
I runs some water fo’ yo’ in de baf-room yonder, and 
takes off yo’ dusty frock. Dar now, yo’ go wash good 
while I gets out yo’ purties.” 

“Martha has already taken you in hand,” laughed 
Mrs. Harold from her room beyond. 

Twenty minutes later Martha had fastened the 
dainty foulard princess gown which Constance, to 
guard against a delayed trunk, had tucked into her 
suitcase. 

. “My, but yo’ does look mighty purty ! I’se iickled 
mos’ ter deaf ter t’ink yo’s gwine be my baby for 
de hull livin’ time yo’s- here,” chuckled the old woman 
as her charge left the room to enter her aunt’s. 
Martha was a sort of general factotum to Mrs. Harold, 
and came for a few hours each day to do the dozen 
little odd jobs necessary. She was a character in the 
hotel, where her services were sought by many of the 
regular guests. 

Mrs. Harold’s suite in Wilmot Hall consisted of two 

9 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


bedrooms and a living room. It was a popular gather- 
ing place for her friends, and especially for ‘‘her boys,” 
as she called the many midshipmen who loved to visit 
there. One of them had described it to a friend whom 
he was escorting to it for an initial visit as “all red, 
snug and warm, with Home just calling to you from 
every corner.” 

At one side stood the little tea-table with its dainty 
tea-service, and shining brass kettle. In another cor- 
ner was the smoking-table with cigarettes, ash-trays, 
matches and the inevitable bag of “Bull Durham”. 
But best of all was the big fire-place in which logs were 
blazing cheerily. 

The windows looked out over the grounds of the 
Naval Academy, and commanded a beautiful pano- 
rama beyond it of the Severn River, with October’s 
gorgeously tinted hills beyond it, as well as the broad 
expanse of the Chesapeake Bay. 

It was dark now and Constance could see nothing 
of the charm of the outlook beyond the windows, but 
the morrow would reveal to her what autumn days in 
Annapolis could be. 


10 


Chaptee II 


THE HALL OF INQUISITION 

“Oh, confound this collar! It isn’t mine anyhow. 
Where are all mine, I’d like to know? I’ll bet that 
man Clint swiped the last one before he started for 
Philly. Just like him, and he’s now sporting around 
the streets of the Quaker City while I suffer with this 
thing. Never mind, — I’ll get square ! I’ll get a grease 
with Mrs. Harold while he’s away and make her let me 
take her niece to the hop Saturday night. Clint thinks 
he’s solid there, but we’ll see. He hasn’t met her yet, 
and I’m to meet her this afternoon. Four whole days 
to make good in,” were the jerkily uttered words of a 
tall midshipman, as he stood in the doorway of his bed- 
room, struggling to fasten a fifteen-inch collar to a 
fifteen-and-a-half-inch shirtband, and twisting his face 
into a dozen contortions during the effort. “There! 
That blamed thing’s fastened, and it looks like the 
deuce, doesn’t it? Oh, if I had that man here!” and 
the white teeth were snapped together in a manner that 
suggested annihilation for the luckless appropriator 
of other people’s apparel. 

“Don’t be too sure of beating Clint out. Hill. I’ll 
bet you don’t. I’ll bet you a dinner at Wilmot that 

11 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


he takes the girl if he wants to. That roommate of 
yours is a hard man to beat with the ladies, my son!” 
said a man who sat perched upon one corner of the 
table in the study of the quarters occupied by Clint 
and the man standing in his trousers and shirt in the 
doorway of the bedroom. The last named individual 
was unable to reply for a moment, being busily en- 
gaged in front of the foot-square mirror which hung 
upon the wall just opposite the door; a mirror evi- 
dently purchased with a view to extreme economy by 
Uncle Sam, and as a safeguard against vanity in his 
midshipmen. 

“Done! I’ll take you up,” he said finally as he 
pushed his military brushes into the pocket of the 
splasher. “That is, if this blamed thing doesn’t choke 
me to death before I have a chance to get busy,” con- 
cluded the speaker as he completed his toilet for the 
call to be paid that afternoon, for on Wednesday there 
is liberty after half-past three for those first classmen 
who are lucky enough to be able to say as they salute 
the cadet officer on duty at the gate, “First grade. 
Sir !” 

“Well, who is going to take Mrs. Harold’s niece, 
anyway?” asked the man upon the table, his fine head 
thrown back to watch the rings of smoke lazily ascend- 
ing from his cigarette. 

“Clint thinks he is,” came the answer from the bed- 
room. “Mrs. Harold asked him to, but I’ll beat him 
out if the girl’s worth it. This,” with a twist of his 


12 


THE HALL OF INQUISITION 


neck, ‘‘will be another incentive. Why didn’t you try 
for the honor, Snap?” 

“Snap” Hunter shrugged his broad shoulders, drew one 
leg up across the other and clasped both hands around 
his knee as he said : “Oh, I wasn’t keen about it. I’ve 
heard nothing but pretty girls for the last three years, 
— fallen in love with a dozen of them annually, — and 
then found it a case of absence making the heart grow 
fonder, — of some one else. If Clint is really going to 
do the deed, though, I hope he has had the decency to 
put me down on her card for a couple of dances.” 

“Thought you weren’t keen?” was the telling shot 
from the bedroom. 

“Maybe not keen but curious,” was the baffling re- 
tort. “Mrs. Harold’s all right; most of the girls she 
has down are all right too, and I don’t want to miss 
any chances.” 

“Oh, he probably has you down for four or five 
dances at least. If he wants to make a hit with the 
lady he will certainly see that she has the best dancer 
in the Academy on her card,” answered the man in the 
bedroom. 

“Dancing takes with the ladies, my son,” was the 
complacent retort to this compliment. 

A laugh from the bedroom evinced appreciation 
from that quarter, and Emmet Hill emerged from his 
sanctum, immaculate in service uniform, a sight to 
make any girl’s heart beat a throb or two faster. That 
nature had been lavish in personal endowments he 
seemed entirely unconscious, but no one, however ma- 
13 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


liciously inclined, could ever have justly accused Emmet 
Hill of self-conceit. Ordinarily he was rather reserved 
and distant, but with those whom he knew well, or who 
found their way to his heart, he was generous and full 
of warm impulses. He and Clint of whom he spoke 
werQ^ roommates, he, in Bancroft Hall slang, Clint’s 
‘Vife,” for it was the dignified Hill who kept things 
shipshape in quarters and lockers and let the easy- 
going Clint lead a life of undisturbed content. To the 
public Clint was known as Clinton Wayne, one of the 
‘‘savviest” men in his class, and Cadet Lieutenant of 
the Fifth Company. At present he was absent on four 
days leave to have his eyes treated by a Philadelphia 
specialist, the examination made in Sick Quarters when 
he went there to learn the cause of the intolerable head- 
aches that had been making life unendurable for sev- 
eral months, revealing the fact that they needed skil- 
ful treatment and were likely to put an end to his 
career in the Service unless attended to without delay. 
After bewailing his fate, — for he was on the Academy 
football team, and this enforced absence meant that 
he could not take part in the Harvard game scheduled 
for the next Saturday, — to Philadelphia he had jour- 
neyed the previous afternoon. 

As Emmet Hill stood in the doorway Hunter whirled 
around upon his perch and cried: 

‘‘Great Scott, what a lady-killer!” 

“Shut up!” was the terse retort. 

“Don’t talk back to your elders,” was Snap’s re- 
joinder as he slid ojff the table to shy a book at the 
14 


THE HALL OF INQUISITION 


immaculate figure. The figure ducked and the book 
fell with a resounding crash upon the floor, as with a 
hoot Hunter continued: “Well, if I’m to stand any 
show with such a fusser I’d better get across to 267 
and do some prinking too. I’ll see you later out on 
the field. So long. Introduce me prettily to the lady 
and tell her beforehand how irresistible I am.” 

“Why don’t you come on over to Middle’s Haven 
with me and meet her?” asked Hill. 

Snap’s face wore a rather inscrutable expression, but 
the eyes contracted slightly in a manner which his 
friend understood. 

“Ah,” said Hill, “The Lorelei, I dare say. Well, 
beat it then. No use arguing with a man under such 
circumstances. You’re bound to strike rocks and 
shoals sooner or later.” 

“Perhaps you’re right,” was the answer. “Gee ! But 
I’m sleepy to-day. I sat up and boned Nav until mid- 
night last night. I’ll never know enough about that 
stuff to be able to take a rowboat across the Severn.” 

“Oh, I guess you are’nt bilged yet. If I could stand 
as high in the class as either you or Clint I’d quit 
worrying. What were you doing boning so late at 
night? I’ll bet it was some one’s else Nav that was 
being worried out. How about it?” 

Hunter colored slightly. 

“Well, I was trying to help Billy a little. He has 
pretty tough luck you know.” 

“Yes, I thought so. Run along old man and fix up 
a little,” and an arm was thrown affectionately over 
15 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


the other’s shoulder as Hill led him toward the door 
of the study, a polite invitation to beat it to his own 
room and get ready for the call to be paid at Mrs. 
Harold’s. 

“All right, I’ll go and do my prinking now. See 
you later,” and Hunter returned the friendly slap upon 
the shoulder as he left the room. Hill paused only long 
enough to catch up his cap, and then closing his door 
passed down the long corridor of Bancroft Hall, the 
magnificent quarters recently completed for Uncle 
Sam’s midshipmen. It commands a view of the Severn 
River and broad stretches of the Chesapeake Bay 
which makes one stop stock still and draw a deep 
breath of sheer delight upon first glancing from its 
balconies. Built of gleaming granite, and so massive 
and beautifully proportioned that at first one fails to 
appreciate its size, it stands at the eastern end of the 
Academy grounds, a fitting prototype of the men 
quartered within its walls, for, literally, those who 
come successfully through the four years must be the 
survival of the fittest. This school is merely the ante- 
room to what lies beyond in the Service, and the great 
world which is the setting and scene of action for the 
crucial training these boys and men begin the moment 
they enter the Academy. And many of them are mere 
boys when they come to it, straight from the home 
circle, where the outlook and influences have been as 
unlike those into which they instantly plunge as can 
well be imagined. 

“Who Enters Here Leaves Boyhood and Home 

16 


THE HALL OF INQUISITION 


Behind” should be written upon the portals of Ban- 
croft Hall, and the man who comes through those four 
years thoroughly qualified to live up to his manhood 
in the truest, purest sense of that splendid word has 
wrought far greater than he knows, and a wonder- 
fully large percentage of them do, which speaks well 
for the material used in the developing of character. 
Some few might better not have entered at all; some 
are handicapped from the outset; many cannot stand 
the high pressure system and drop out; some lack the 
physical endurance, which must be almost superhuman 
to go on from day to day, week to week, year in and 
year out, for the four years, as midshipmen must go. 
Perhaps it is a special provision of Providence that 
the majority of them do not realize what the pressure 
is. Every minute is crowded full to the very limit with 
duties, very, very few being left over for exercise, 
diversion or recreation. All day long men are scurry- 
ing in every direction, bent either upon duty or pleas- 
ure, as time or the hour permit. How they manage 
to crowd into the twenty-four hours the amount of 
work, diversion and fun which they do, is a never-end- 
ing source of wonder' to those who know midshipmen 
well. Yet, as a whole, a jollier, happier, more loyal 
set of men it would be hard to find, and as they put it, 
there are ‘‘no kicks coming.” 

From “B^eveille,” the bugle-call at six- thirty A. M., 
to “Taps,” at ten P. M., not a moment is lost. Your 
midshipman has no attendant in quarters, as has his 
collegiate brother in dormitory, to keep things in order 
17 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


and do the morning setting straight. Before he rushes 
away at six-fifty to breakfast formation, and morning 
inspection, his bedclothing must be turned back, his 
windows opened, and no articles left “adrift.” The 
morning meal is not loitered over. So many minutes 
and no more are allowed for it and your chronometer 
is not in it for bolting his breakfast. 

After breakfast his bed must be made, his rooms 
swept, every book or article must be put in its assigned 
place, for woe-betide the luckless midshipman who 
hurries away to recitation formation leaving a book 
out of the case, a single article adrift in his study, a 
garment not properly folded and “stowed” in his 
locker, or a towel askew upon his rack. All, all must 
be immaculately shipshape, as part of the training and 
perfect discipline of the great battleship, to which ere 
long he will be assigned for duty. 

Four days of each week, with the exception of ninety 
minutes recreation — from five P. M. to six-thirty 
P. M. — are filled with the incessant duties of recita- 
tions, or the various drills, but on Wednesday from 
three-thirty to six-thirty comes a brief liberty for the 
first classmen. On Saturdays from twelve-thirty to 
nine-forty first, second and third classmen have liberty, 
when they may lunch or dine “out in town” upon 
special invitation, and for which privilege a written 
request must be submitted to the commandant not later 
than Friday A. M. But even then they must be present 
in ranks at both luncheon and dinner formation to duly 
report and sign up before leaving Bancroft Hall. The 
18 


THE HALL OF INQUISITION 


authorities must know where to lay hands upon them 
if so minded. Moreover, before going abroad in the 
land to dine with his friends he must shift from his 
afternoon service uniform to the evening full dress, 
otherwise he may not leave the grounds at all. 

Your poor little fourth classmen, or “plebe” in the 
year 19 — could lunch with friends on Saturdays and 
with parents on Sundays. Now things are sadly 
changed. He could go out in town on Saturdays from 
one-thirty to six-thirty P. M., but upon no other days 
during that first year of durance. 

Oh, liberty is precious and highly valued by your 
man who elects to become an officer in Uncle Sam’s 
navy, and he thinks twice before he breaks any of the 
three-hundred-odd rules of that blue Regulation Book, 
which must ever lie in evidence upon his study table, 
and brings upon his luckless head the demerits which 
will deprive him of that liberty. Explanations are not 
encouraged or, as a rule, accepted, and more than one 
man has had to learn wisdom by bitter experience, sev- 
eral infringements having put an end to all liberty for 
months hand-running. 

Ten minutes later Emmet Hill entered Mrs. Harold’s 
living-room, where Constance and her aunt sat before 
the cheery open fire. He was no stranger there. From 
plebe year to this first-class one he, in common with 
Clinton Wayne and dozens of others, which went by 
the name of the ‘‘bunch”, had found it a second home, 
and in Mr. and Mrs. Harold warm, helpful friends. 
When Mr. Harold left Annapolis he charged “the 
19 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


bunch” to look out for his wife, assuring them that 
he would hold them accountable for her welfare and 
good times. They accepted the charge with alacrity 
and never for a moment did she lack an escort. 

As he entered she held out her hand to him, saying 
as she smiled up at him : 

“And how is my big, bonny lad to-day Welcome. 
Constance, this is Mr. Plill. My niece. Miss Howland, 
Emmet, though I forsee a much less formal attitude in 
the near future. Formal surnames do not survive long 
in our friendly atmosphere.” 

“When Miss Howland grants me the privilege I’m 
not going to be long in making the most of it, you can 
count on that,” answered Hill, his words addressed to 
Mrs. Harold, but his eyes upon the bonny face before 
him. “It’s going to be a great treat for us fellows to 
have you up here in ‘Middies’ Haven’.” 

“Is that what you call Aunt Janet’s sitting-room?” 
laughed Constance. “I knew it ought to have a name, 
but should never have thought of that one. I guess it 
fits too, from all she has written about her ‘boys’, and 
told me in the little time I’ve been here. I’m anxious 
to see you all gather here as she says you do every day, 
specially on Saturdays.” 

“Well, do we !” cried Hill, dropping into a chair near 
her. “We just naturally ‘cry for it’, and feel done out 
of half our week-end unless we rally round this hearth- 
stone. Some of the others will blow in presently and 
I think we ought to get over to the Field as soon as 
possible. There will be a fine practice scrimmage this 
20 



''WE JUST NATURALLY ‘CRY FOR IT’, AND FEEL DONE OUT OF 
HALF OUR WEEK-END UNLESS WE RALLY ROUND 
THIS HEARTH-STONE.” 









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si’ 




THE HALL OF INQUISITION 


afternoon, Miss Constance,” (wasn’t that a clever ad- 
vance toward my goal?) he turned toward Mrs. Harold 
to ask. j 

‘‘You generally win out,” she nodded. “But if the 
others are coming we’d better get our things on. Run 
along, Connie, and put on your hat.” 

“Excuse me a minute, Mr. Emmet,” hesitated 

Constance, then laughing as she glanced back over 
her shoulder, she added : “That’s a comfortable 
sort of Christian name, for Mrs. Grundy could never 
tell whether conventions were being trifled with or not, 
could she?” 

“Let’s run the old lady a little and never let her 
guess it?” Emmet Hill called after her. 

“I’m willing if you and Aunt Janet are,” was called 
gaily from the adjoining room. When she returned 
ready to start Mrs. Harold went into her own bedroom 
to put on her outdoor garments. During her absence 
another man arrived and was greeted with: 

“Hello, Fay! Beat you out in two ways, didn’t I? 
You may know this young lady as Miss Howland, — 
she’s Miss Constance to me , — and she may know you 
as Mr. Fay, while she already regards me as an old 
friend. Just listen hard when she calls me ‘Emmet’.” 

“I sha’n’t do anything of the sort!” retorted Con- 
stance, flashing her eyes at the audacious Hill and fol- 
lowing it up with just the hint of a grimace which set 
her dimples rippling. Then turning to Fay she offered 
her hands, saying: “Don’t listen to his nonsense.” 

Just then Mrs. Harold re-entered, and when greet- 

21 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


ings were exchanged between her and her prime favor- 
ite, Fay, all set out for the yard and football practice. 

The Athletic Field is a rallying point for the friends 
of the football squad, and usually presents a lively 
scene between the hours of five and six-thirty each 
afternoon. The battle on Saturday with Harvard bid 
fair to be a hard-fought one, but the team and brigade 
were full of enthusiasm, and confident of victory. 

‘‘Sit down there in front of me, Connie, girlie,” said 
Mrs. Harold, as Constance and Hill clambered up to 
join the party. “I’ve got to keep a watchful eye upon 
you until you are initiated into Academy doings, and I 
also want to present you to Mrs. Waltham, one of my 
good friends here in Annapolis.” 

Mrs. Waltham sat just at Mrs. Harold’s right, 
chaperoning three girls who were seated beyond her, 
with three midshipmen dancing attendance upon them. 
The girls were spending the week-end with Mrs. Wal- 
tham, who usually had one or more with her. They 
were about as unlike as three girls could be and Con- 
stance made a fourth contrast. Introductions fol- 
lowed and Constance was not a little amused at the 
flutter caused by the arrival of the two men with her 
and Mrs. Harold. Evidently they were regarded as 
particularly desirable acquisitions. 

Katherine Bell, a girl with keen, piercing dark eyes 
and a singularly irritating expression, leaned closer 
to the man at her side to ask : 

“Who is she and what is she here for.?” her words 
accompanied by a significant uplifting of her eye- 
22 


THE HALL OF INQUISITION 


brows, for she had not been slow to notice the keen 
interest which Constance had all unconsciously aroused 
in those around her. 

“She is Mrs. Harold’s niece, I believe, and I suppose 
she is here for all winter,” he replied, “but what is that 
to you and me.?” 

“H-m-m.?” was the interrogative drawl, and the girl 
looked blankly into the man’s face, knowing full well 
that he was at the beck of her finger, and that a nod 
from her had the power to call him from duty or incli- 
nation and bring him to her side, a slave to the peculiar 
fascination she exercised over him, for Ned Morris had 
been her toy for two years. 

In the bandstand at the left of the bleachers the 
Naval Academy Band, led by the bandmaster who had 
brought it to such a rare degree of proficiency, was 
sending its inspiring music across the great parade 
ground and athletic field. More than once its strains 
were drowned by enthusiastic shouts over a clever 
play. On every side rose the hum of conversation as 
friend greeted friend and the interests, joys, pleasures 
and — yes — the bitterness too, come under discussion, 
for the world of the Service is very like the great outer 
world in miniature, and all experiences and emotions 
come to the surface. 

As the voices rose and fell, wits fencing wits, and 
laughter telling where hearts were light, a man ap- 
proached the section in which Mrs. Harold and her 
party sat. 

In the next section there was a slight commotion as 

23 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


a wonderfully beautiful woman of the most perfect 
blonde type leaned forward, shot a quick glance at the 
man, her face coloring slightly. Then turning to the 
officer beside her she continued her conversation. He 
smiled cynically. 

‘^Hello, there’s Snap,” said Hill. 

‘^And who may ‘Snap’ be?” asked Constance. 

A funny little twinkle came into the corners of Hill’s 
eye. 

“All the name implies.” 


Chapter III 


AT FOOTBALL PRACTICE 

So far as the man in question was concerned, all the 
people present might have been total strangers to him. 
Apparently the big dark eyes, shaded by their long 
black lashes, were wholly intent upon the players as he 
swung along with the firm, springy step so indicative 
of his positive self-assurance, his fine physical propor- 
tions testifying to his great strength, and his perfectly 
fitted service blouse emphasizing all their lines. But 
nothing ever escaped those eyes, and long before either 
Hill or any of Mrs. Harold’s party had seen him. 
Snap’s point of vantage had been chosen and he had 
inspected them with a thoroughness that might have 
given sound points to the officer in charge at quarters, 
and he was also fully aware that a pair of eyes in the 
next section was watching him. 

Without looking up he paused at the foot of the 
steps where Mrs. Harold sat, and with hands clasped 
loosely behind him, stood watching the practice. 

“O, make Mr. Hunter wake up and take notice!” 
drawled Anna Ashton, one of Mrs. Waltham’s proteges 
whose admiration for Snap was rather a good joke for 
all who knew her, since the plump Anna was not exactly 
the type which appealed most strongly to him. 

^5 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


The man beside her, Billy Crosby, Mrs. Waltham’s 
nephew, reached across and selecting a chocolate almond 
from a box in Anna’s lap, took careful air and let 
drive. The missile went true to its mark and struck 
Hunter’s cap. Turning his head with marked delibera- 
tion, he looked up over his shoulder, calling serenely: 

‘‘Hello, there ! Good shot.” 

Then throwing more animation into voice and glance, 
as a cleverly simulated surprise overspread his coun- 
tenance, he gave a quick little toss of the head and 
ran up the steps, saying as he removed his cap and 
extended his hand: 

“Why, good afternoon, Mrs. Harold. Delighted to 
see you, Mrs. Waltham. How-do-you-do, Miss Leigh- 
ton? Quite as blooming as ever, Miss Ashton. You 
are too far off to reach, Miss Bell, so I’ll imitate our 
friend John Chinaman and shake my own hands in 
salutation.” 

“I want to present you to Miss Howland, Mr. 
Hunter,” interrupted Mrs. Harold, for Snap had inten- 
tionally prolonged his greetings in order to Inspect 
Constance at closer range. 

“Delighted to meet you. Miss Howland. Have heard 
of the pleasure in store for us and now see that we 
can disprove the pessimistic Bobby’s assertion: the 
‘bloom is not shed’. Ease over a trifle. Hill ; I see there’s 
room enough for my slender form at the further side 
of Miss Howland.” 

Somehow the people below ducked forward and those 
beyond Constance moved a little farther over. Burton 

m 


AT FOOTBALL PRACTICE 


Fay chuckled under his breath, but made way. Snap 
was as serene and smiling as the autumn landscape 
before him. Turning toward Constance he took one 
keen look at the girl whose lips were twitching slightly, 
and who deliberately turned and looked fairly and 
squarely at the man who was regarding her with a: 
“well-am-I-drawing-a-peach-or-a-brick” expression, as 
she asked: 

*‘Am I to call you Mr. Hunter or Mr. Snap?’^ 

“Which do you think fits the better?” 

“I doubt if there could be a hunter without any 
snap,” was the quizzical answer, “but I’ll wait and see 
what the hunter proves.” 

“I’ll endeavor to prove all your fancy paints me. 
May I do the honors to-morrow afternoon? We have 
‘cross-country march’ from four till five on Thursday, 
but I’ll be at liberty from that on till six- twenty-five. 
Will you meet me on the Chapel walk at five?” 

*^Meet you on the Chapel walk!'* echoed the girl, not 
a little staggered by the seeming audacity of the pro- 
posal by a total stranger. 

“Yes. I’ll beat it from the Armory as soon as we 
are dismissed and then, like the spider. I’ll ‘show you 
all the pretty things, and treasures rich and rare’,” 
said Hunter in the most matter-of-fact tone. 

“And does he expect me to ‘walk in’ like the silly 
fly?” asked Constance, turning to Hill, in whom she 
felt a confidence which Snap, with all his audacity, 
failed to inspire. 

“It’s quite au fait. Miss Constance. Customs get 

27 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


slightly twisted down here where every minute must be 
made to count. You will not be the only girl on Chapel 
walk waiting for her knight pro tern,” answered Hill, 
quick appreciation in his hazel eyes for this little evi- 
dence of good faith. 

“Do you mean to tell me that Aunt Janet will let 
me come strolling calmly into this yard to wait for a 
man to meet me?” demanded Constance, incredulity in 
voice and eyes, yet much divided between her instinctive 
faith in Hill and her instinctive doubt of Snap. 

“I certainly do. Dozens come in every afternoon. 
You may call the band the attraction if you wish to 
spare your feelings. It is the regular thing, though.” 

“Call it a cap-band; there’s always one near by. 
Will you meet me?” persisted Snap, adding mentally, 
“I ought to have made that two dinners. I don’t know 
but what I may take it into my head to give Clint a 
run for his money. — She’s a peach all right!” 

Constance turned to her aunt to ask: 

“Do you hear what these men are saying to me, 
Tante?” 

“No, dear. What is it? Snap is equal to almost 
anything, but I thought Emmet safe. What have you 
been telling this child of mine?” 

“The nicest things possible, but she thinks I’m run- 
ning her, and won’t believe Hill, much less me.” 

“Is that a new experience for you? But Emmet 
doesn’t often come under the ban. What have they 
been telling you, Connie?” 

“Merely asking me to walk over here at five o’clock 

^8 


AT FOOTBALL PRACTICE 


to-morrow and stroll around until Mr. Hunter comes 
to meet me,” was the laughing answer. 

“It’s no laughing matter, Mrs. Harold. My heart is 
quite set upon it,” insisted Snap, turning to look up 
at Mrs. Harold with a pair of eyes that had wrought 
havoc with more than one girl, or woman. 

“A fig for your heart! I doubt if you have one; 
fragments of it have been tossed to so many. Just as 
well, maybe. Makes it safer for each recipient. But 
you may come, Connie. It is all right. All the girls 
do; it is Academy etiquette,” laughed Mrs. Harold. 
“But practice seems to be nearly over.” 

All rose from their seats, but as they descended the 
steps to the Field a sharp exclamation behind her 
caused Constance to turn around. 

“Oh, that horrid nail! Mr. Fay, please come and 
save my gown. Ned’s hands are full and I daren’t 
stir,” called Katherine Bell. 

Fay bounded up the steps and dropping upon one 
knee tried to disentangle the lace of her gown from a 
nail upon which it was wound in a manner to suggest 
considerable ingenuity in the winding. Morris, who 
had his hands filled with the lady’s wrap, a box of candy 
and several other trifles which she had hastily thrust 
into them, stood helplessly looking on, as she waited 
with exemplary patience for Fay to free her. If he 
wondered how that bit of lace had become so firmly 
twisted around the nail he did not say so, but presently 
had it carefully loosened. As he rose to his feet and 
^dustecLoff his knees he said: 

^9 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘I’m afraid I’ve damaged your lace a little.” 

“0, never mind the lace. The principal thing was 
to set me free ; I did not wish to be held a prisoner here 
all the afternoon,” cried Katherine, catching up her 
skirts and hurrying down the steps. 

“Am I not here?” asked Morris, though not loudly 
enough to be heard by Fay, who was a little in advance. 

“The poor we have with us always,” was the sharp 
retort which made Morris color and bite his lip. Kath- 
erine had chosen her words well and she knew it: 
Morris did not lack worldly goods as the young lady 
could amply testify, since she had come in for her full 
share of the good things he was able to lavish upon 
her. He had been her slave since youngster year, 
and kept their friends guessing as to how long he would 
continue to be. As they reached the bottom of the 
steps she said: 

“Oh, Mr. Fay, you’ll surely come over to Mrs. Wal- 
tham’s after the game Saturday afternoon, won’t you? 
She is going to have a little spread after the hop and 
the girls are to make the salad and things, and you men 
are to come over to help.” 

“I’ll be delighted to, I’m sure. What am I expected 
to make, the salad dressing?” he asked, looking down 
upon the girl who had contrived to place herself so 
close to his side that she had to glance upward in a 
most taking manner while speaking. 

In the group beyond HiU walked at one side of Con- 
stance, Snap at the other. “Snap’s playing the game,” 
30 


AT FOOTBALL PRACTICE 


was Fay’s mental comment as he awaited the reply to 
his question. 

“Oh, never ! Fancy a man being entrusted with such 
a delicate concoction as salad dressing.” 

“I can make it right up to the mark,” interrupted 
Morris. 

“How high is the mark?” asked Katherine sweetly, 
as they hurried along to overtake the others. “Oh, do 
make haste, Ned! I must speak to Beatrice Leighton. 
That little Duncan thinks he can have it all his own 
way.” 

Miss Leighton seemed to be entirely absorbed by the 
chatter of a ratey little plebe who had joined the 
group, determined to have his innings with the beauty 
before the gate was reached, demerits having placed 
him on third conduct grade, thus cutting all liberty. 

“Now, what’s the rush? Duncan’s having the time 
of his life with her and you’ve got — me.” 

“Yes, chronic conditons are hard to cure,” snapped 
Katherine. “Oh, Beatrice! wait up, you two. Hello, 
little Bright Eyes! What are you telling Beatrice to 
make her so sweetly rosy, you dear boy? But I 
know you want to talk to me now, and Ned’s just dying 
to have a chat with Bea ; he hasn’t had a word with her 
all afternoon. Come, angel-face, I Jcnow you want to 
come for a little stroll around the yard with me now. 
We haven’t had a confidential talk for ages and ages. 
Gracious, just look at my hair! The wind has blown 
it in every direction,” rattled on Katherine, making 
31 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


frantic pats at a most elaborate arrangement of puffs 
and ringlets. 

‘‘Lost some of it? Shall I go back and hunt it up?” 
asked Duncan. 

“Now that was really clever for one so juvenile. No, 
that sort is in my top bureau drawer at present. I 
didn’t need it this afternoon.” 

“Keeping it in shape for Saturday’s hop, I dare 
say.” 

“Of course. You’re growing sharp as tartar sauce, 
aren’t you, little boy? You ought to be delighted to 
have me to experiment upon; you’ll certainly live to 
bless the day you met me,” she retorted as she turned 
down a side path with Duncan, some of the others 
wondering what her object could be in leaving the 
group, though perfectly sure that she had one, for she 
was not the type of girl who did things without a 
motive. 

“Going to be good to me, Mrs. Harold?” asked HiU, 
as Katherine and Duncan disappeared. 

“Am I not always good to my midshipmen?” she 
asked, smiling kindly up at the tall man. 

“Well, then, will you be especially good?” 

“That depends.” 

“I’ve just asked Miss Howland to let me take her to 
the hop on Saturday and she says it all depends upon 
you, for she has an idea you’ve already asked some- 
one to take her. So have I, but he may not show up, 
and if he doesn’t Fm the man and don’t you forget it 
either.” 


32 


AT FOOTBALL PRACTICE 


“The man of the hour?” queried Mrs. Harold, laugh- 
ing. “Well, I have already asked Clint to look after 
Constance. He is quite capable.” 

“And if he doesn’t get back the honor is to be 
mine?” 

“He’s got to get back, you foolish boy! He has 
only four days’ leave, as you know.” 

“Suppose that specialist phones to the Superin- 
tendent that Clint’s not fit ; that he needs further treat- 
men; that his eyes will suffer from the glare of the 
electric lights if he gets down to work again; that the 
dancing and the whirl and color of the hop will be bad 
for him, and 

“And suppose the walls of the Armory fall in and 
Tecumseh takes a midnight stroll,” broke in Mrs. Harold 
derisively. “Clint will be back on Saturday morning, 
and don’t you delude yourself with any other belief. 
He wouldn’t miss seeing that football game for the 
world, even if his eyes have kept him out of it for a 
couple of weeks. But come over to Wilmot with us 
now for a cup of tea. Good-night, Billy. Sorry you 
can’t come with us, but hope lies ahead, you know.” 

Billy was also on grade for having indulged in pro- 
hibited “smokes”. 

“Mind you, remember what I’ve said,” repeated Hill 
in a low voice to Mrs. Harold. “I’m the man.” 

“You are not likely to let me forget it,” she replied 
as he left her side to join Constance, Snap taking his 
place, honor bound to let Hill win his bet if he could. 

“I’m awfully sorry I can’t go over to Wilmot with 
S3 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


you, Mrs. Harold, but I’ve an engagement out in town. 
Don’t let Miss Howland forget her date with me, will 
you.f^ And do you keep your memory refreshed,” he 
called to Constance, who was already moving toward 
the gate with Hill. 

“I won’t. I mean I she called over her 

shoulder. 

“Engagement.?” echoed Mrs. Harold. “Another 
‘case’. Snap.? How many figures are needed to enume- 
rate them now.?” 

“ ‘He sighs to many, though he loves but one,’ and 
the other man beat him out years ago,” was the reply, 
with a look which might have melted a graven image. 
Mrs. Harold was forty and looked thirty. 

“Well, for audacity you are the limit! Run along, 
little boy, and buy your stick of candy for your little 
girl,” she retorted. “Good-night, Billy, next year is 
coming. Make your manners prettily to your friends,” 
was her parting shot at Billy, whose face wore a woe- 
begone expression. 

“Billy will be wiser by first-class year and learn the 
secrets of ways and means,” remarked Morris. 

“Well, if you teach him some of your ways and 
means you know just what you may count on at my 
hands,” flashed Mrs. Waltham, with a significant nod 
to Mrs. Harold as she turned to pass through the 
gate. 

Just then a slight, graceful figure hurried by them, 
and turning, flashed a challenging glance into Mrs. 
Harold’s face as she said: 


31 


AT FOOTBALL PRACTICE 


“Good-afternoon, Mrs. Harold. Delicious day, isn’t 
it.? Sorry I can’t stop to chat with you, but I’m al- 
ready late for an engagement,” and with a peculiarly 
triumphant smile she hurried on. 

Mrs. Harold had responded courteously, but an in- 
dignant light filled her frank, clear eyes. 

Fay caught the look, and his face hardened as his 
glance followed the beautiful woman who had sat in 
the section next them. For a moment neither spoke, 
then she asked, unheard by the others : 

“Have you heard anything further regarding the 
New Mexico? I believe she arrives at San Francisco 
in March and that Mrs. Cardine is to join her husband 
there.” 

“I sincerely hope the report is true,” was all Fay 
replied. 

“Well, Connie dear, what are your first impres- 
sions?” asked Mrs. Harold as she and Constance sat at 
breakfast the following morning. 

“All so new and unlike anything I’ve ever known 
before that I’m wondering if I’ll ever fit into my new 
surroundings,” answered the girl as she buried her 
white teeth in a slice of luscious pear. 

“This will be rather a quiet day, dear. Thursdays 
always are, but you have a ‘date’ for this afternoon 
with Snap. Are you going in with any of the girls 
whom you met yesterday afternoon?” 

“Miss Bell asked me to meet her, but I am still won- 

35 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


dering at the topsy-turvy order of Academy etiquette,” 
laughed Constance. 

“You’ll get used to it inside of a week, and by that 
time you’ll be a regular yard engine.” 

“A what?” cried Constance. 

“Academy slang for a girl who has so many ad- 
mirers that she must keep a date with one or another 
day after day. He is the tender,” explained Mrs. 
Harold, laughing. 

“O, I won’t go !” protested the girl, divided between 
the funny side of the situation and what seemed to her, 
fresh from the conventionalities of a big city, a pro- 
cedure quite out of order. 

“You trot right along, dear. Snap may be all his 
name implies, but he is a gentleman and he would not 
have asked you to meet him if it were not entirely 
correct to do so. He may try to test your metal but, — 
well, I have an idea it will ring true, and he will not be 
slow to discover the fact. So don’t worry, but when 
the proper hour arrives put on your hearts-go-pitapat 
clothes. Wear your gray voile and big gray hat with 
the pink roses. You see I’ve learned something of your 
wardrobe. Martha called me into your room to ‘see de 
purties’ when she was unpacking your trunk. The day 
is so mild that the voile will be quite warm enough and 
well — the pink roses match, — but never mind.” 

In the course of the morning Katherine Bell ran in 
to say “Howd’-do,” she said. In reality to do a little 
scout duty for the other girls. Constance’s arrival in 
their midst had caused more of a flutter than that 
86 


AT FOOTBALL PRACTICE 


modest little being suspected. Hitherto they had prac- 
tically had things their own way, and two of the most 
popular men in the Academy had been at their beck 
and call. Now they saw breakers ahead. Katherine 
was by far the cleverest of the three girls visiting Mrs. 
Waltham, and was self-elected to learn something 
about Constance for her friends. Without appearing 
to do so, she put leading questions and in the course 
of them said: 

“Don’t think me personal, please, but won’t you 
wear the lovely gown you wore yesterday. Miss How- 
land, when we keep our dates this afternoon? It’s 
simply ravishing.” 

“Why Aunt Janet seems to have settled my toilet 
for me already,” laughed Constance. 

“And what shall / wear, Mrs. Harold?” asked Kath- 
erine, with well-assumed simplicity. 

“Your usual audacity and sharp wits,” was the 
prompt retort, as Mrs. Harold gave a tweak to a lock 
of the dark hair falling across Katherine’s ear. 

“Oh, would that be quite proper? I thought my 

blue rajah ” and the words died away at a quick, 

significant glance from Mrs. Harold. 

“The outer raiment is a matter of selection. The 
warp and woof of the foundation have been on the 
loom for nearly twenty years, I think, and the texture 
cannot be changed.” 


37 


Chapter IV 


IN THE YARD 

At a quarter to five Constance and Katherine entered 
the main gate and walked down Chapel walk toward the 
Armory, Constance believing, as a matter of course, 
that Katherine was to meet Morris ; a belief which re- 
ceived a slight jar within the ensuing half hour. 

‘‘Here come the men from the Armory,” said Kathe- 
rine, as the brigade came pouring out of the door of 
that building as grain pours out of a hopper. Hun- 
dreds of men in blue service uniforms and white leg- 
gings were rushing for Bancroft Hall to get rid of the 
dust of the previous hour’s cross-country march, and 
Katherine and Constance were close enough to recog- 
nize many of them, — Snap among the first. He raised 
his cap, gave it a cheerful wave and rushed on. Not 
far behind him were Morris and Fay. An odd light 
flashed into Katherine’s eyes as she beckoned ever so 
slightly to the former. When had he ever been known 
to fail in instant response to that beck.'^ Dust and 
grime, nevertheless and notwithstanding, he turned and 
came toward the girls. Fay continuing on his way and 
calling out as he strode along in Snap’s wake: 

“Too mucky to see you now.” 

38 


IN THE YARD 


Morris came up, cap in hand, saying as he took the 
hand Katherine held out to him: 

‘‘Now, why did you hold me up at this inopportune 
moment? Please don’t look at me. Miss Howland; I’m 
inches thick in dust and a disgrace to the Service. 
Kitty led us an awful pace to-day. But I must go and 
clean up. If I felt my shortcomings before I met you 
they’re emphasized now,” he concluded, with a glance 
at the immaculate figures confronting him. • 

“But, Ned, I had to stop you. I’ve a message for 
Mr. Fay and I thought he’s stop and get it, but his 
devotion to our sex does not equal yours, you see, and 
now I’m afraid I can’t give it to him.” 

“May I? I pass his room on the way to mine, you 
know.” 

“Why, I can’t give you the message for it’s — well, 
I really don’t think Mrs. Waltham would want me to. 
But please ask him to come out here the moment he’s 
finished prinking, and now hurry back yourself ; I 
can’t wait all the afternoon for you.” 

Five minutes later Snap re-appeared. 

“How in the world do you men get spruced up so 
quickly?” she asked as his quick step rang upon the 
steps leading up to Chapel walk and the next instant 
he stood beside them. 

“How do you do. Miss Howland? How are you to- 
day, Miss Bell? By the way, can we apply the quota- 
tion — ‘she hath a heart as sound as a bell and her 
tongue is the clapper, for what her heart thinks her 
tongue speaks’?” 


39 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘Keep quiet, you audacious boy ; what do you know 
about hearts?” 

“Don’t heed that base insinuation, Miss Howland; I 
ought to have substituted something about ‘a barbed 
tongue’ — I’ve forgotten the rest of it. Let’s go over 
in Lover’s Lane until Fay comes. You’re waiting for 
him, aren’t you. Miss Bell?” he asked innocently, as 
he managed to place himself at the other side of Con- 
stance and in that fleeting moment take in every detail 
of the dainty toilet. The straight shoulders, carried 
with a “brace” equal to his own, their lines emphasized 
by the perfectly fitted gray jacket. She was a singu- 
larly lithe, graceful girl, moving and walking with the 
perfect freedom of well-developed, untrammeled 
muscles. As they turned into Lover’s Lane, with its 
beautiful over-arching maples, Fay joined the group, 
greeting Constance and Katherine with the grace so 
native to him. 

“Morris tells me you have a message for me. Miss 
Bell. I am here to receive it.” 

“Is that all you are here for?” asked Snap, as he 
turned and began to walk slowly down the lane with 
Constance, Katherine and Fay falling in behind them. 

“I’m on duty, — a most delightful one,” was the 
urbane reply. 

“Yes, we all are. I’m going to show Miss Howland 
the yard. Will you come with us? We’ll make a most 
congenial quartette.” 

“But where is Mr. Morris? We musn’t go quite out 
of sight,” protested Constance. 

40 


IN THE YARD 


“Oh, he knows our haunts and if we are to be found 
he will find us,” answered Katherine. 

They had now reached the end of the lane when 
Snap, with the utmost sang-froid, drew his watch from 
his pocket, compared it with the tower clock and said: 

“Old timepiece is all right, five-twenty to the minute. 
Say Fay, I’ll give you and Miss Bell thirty seconds 
to get out of sight. That message can’t be delivered in 
public, I know.” 

For a moment Fay looked slightly nonplussed, then 
a funny twinkle came into his eyes. Katherine’s color 
was a trifle heightened, but she rose to the occasion: 

“I’d hate to be responsible for an error of judgment 
upon your part, Mr. Hunter,” she said sharply, and 
turning led the way down the walk to the steam 
building. 

Constance looked into Hunter’s eyes for a second. 
Then a laugh bubbled up. His face was absolutely 
inscrutable as he asked: 

“Have you any choice as to which part of the yard 
you see first 

“Yes, the part in the opposite direction from the 
one in which that message is to be delivered. Are visi- 
tors, feminine ones, I mean, allowed to cross the por- 
tals of Bancroft Hall.?^” 

“The portals, yes, but not the penetralia. Would 
you like to see the rotunda and Memorial Hall.? I can 
show you those.” 

They made their way toward the building which ex- 
tended its huge length from the Armory to the Gym- 
41 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


nasium, and ascending the imposing flight of steps 
entered the rotunda. 

“What an immense place! Are your rooms ranged 
on either side of those balconies? I should hate to be 
on the top floor,” commented Constance. 

“Upper deck,” corrected Snap. “No joke being up 
there. My reception room is on the second, and that’s 
high enough when my friends honor me. You know 
we are only allowed visitors on Sundays.” 

“Reception room! Visitors? Do you mean to tell 
me you men are indulged to that extent?” cried Con- 
stance, eyeing pretty sharply the non-commital face 
beside her. 

“Sure thing! We have it snug here in quarters. On 
Sunday Mrs. Harold must chaperon a crowd of you 
over to see our rooms. Some of them are halls of 
luxury and the fellows have made them fetching beyond 
words. Best girl’s picture inside locker door and little 
souvenirs well hidden from the O. C.’s eagle eye, etc. 
But come along and see Paul. He’s down yonder 
under the stairway. At least we’re pretty sure it’s 
Paul. At any rate, we’re going to put him in his crypt 
under the chapel when its ready for him. It isn’t 
quite finished yet, but it’s in good shape to use as the 
brig. Since the old Santee has been pronounced too 
damp, the crypt is the only place we have to put the 
convicts.” 

“What is a brig? Remember I’m not up in navy 
terms.” 

“Have you never sailed the ocean blue in one?” 

42 


IN THE YARD 


“No, and neither have you. So you have no ad- 
vantage over me there. I want to know about the brig 
you’ve just spoken of.” 

“It’s the place where we put our incorrigibles. Used 
to send them to the old Santee,- — that hulk yonder 
roofed over to make a palatial residence for the officer 
in charge of ships. The unruly had to move. We 
stick ’em down in the crypt. Nice, dark, quiet place 
to think in; cool too, for their feverish blood.” 

He led the way around the corridor to a small gal- 
lery beneath the staircase, where the remains of John 
Paul Jones, in a casket covered with the American flag, 
lay patiently waiting, in “the sleep that knows no 
waking,” the tardy honors of his adopted country 
which he served so nobly. 

For a moment Constance looked without speaking.' 
There was more than one side to this girl who was so 
ready to meet fun and nonsense with fun and nonsense. 

“Time to him means nothing now, does it?” she said. 
“Honors less. I hope he knows that our generation 
appreciates all he did for us, and I think he does.” 
Her sweet face was made more beautiful by the flush 
of patriotism which stirred her soul. Then, after a 
moment’s silence, she turned and walked slowly down 
the corridor. Snap beside her, his keen eyes wearing a 
slightly puzzled expression. What manner of girl 
was this who one moment seemed as gullible as a child 
of fifteen, the next was giving him shot for shot, and 
then a glimpse of a soul which could feel so deeply and 
put into words the thoughts that swayed her and that 
43 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


swayed him also? She had with a few simple words 
reached the real Snap. Few ever did. After seeing the 
rest of the building open to visitors they returned to 
the sunlight of the yard. 

They were now in front of the new chapel, with its 
massive dome, regarding which least said is perhaps 
kindest. The unregenerate called it the frosted wed- 
ding cake. 

‘‘Would you like to go inside?” 

“Not just now. It’s prettier out here in the sun- 
light, with all those pigeons wheeling and circling 
around the dome.” 

“Yes, they’re carrier pigeons. See those funny little 
windows up in the tower of the Academic building 
yonder? That’s where we keep them. Get all our 
messages from the outer world that way.” 

“Oh, yes; I know that much. My acceptance of 
Aunt Janet’s invitation was sent in that way. She bor- 
rowed a pigeon, sent it up to us by express. We at- 
tached our message to its leg and in a few hours she 
knew I was coming. Saved postage too.” 

The laugh that rang out across the yard caused 
Morris to look up from his disconsolate stroll along 
Lover’s Lane. Seeing friends he hurried toward them, 
but before he could reach them little Duncan appeared 
as though he had sprung up out of the ground, and 
Morris was discreet enough to ask no questions con- 
cerning the young lady who had vanished so com- 
pletely. 

“Tell me something more of the life down here,” said 

44 


IN THE YARD 


Constance, as they all turned down the path leading 
to the soa-wall. ‘‘Aunt Janet has, of course, written me 
reams about it, and I’ve made all sorts of mental pic- 
tures, but I’m hopelessly green. Be good and put me 
wise before some of the other men find out how little I 
know. What are all those rowboats hung up under 
that shed for.^ And what do you do with those motor- 
boats and the little sailboats yonder?” 

“One bell! Slow down, please!” cried Snap. “One 
at a time. Morris, you tell the lady about the cutters. 
You ought to know best; you bossed the job Tuesday.” 

“They are cutters. Miss Howland, not rowboats. 
Stow that fact away for future use. We take the un- 
initiated out in them and teach them the difference be- 
tween oars and spades. Some are regular hayseeds 
when they hit this place, you know,” answered Morris, 
a cynical smile upon his lips. 

Little Duncan darted an undetected look of hatred 
at him. He had reason to know that Morris had been 
in charge of Cutter No. 5 the previous Tuesday. He 
wasted no affection upon Morris. Few plebes did, 
though most of them would willingly have been door- 
mats for Snap, though by most people Snap was not 
regarded as a beacon light. But there was more than 
one side to Snap’s character. As a plebe Duncan would 
have been almost anywhere else than in his present sur- 
roundings at this moment. Plebes are not given to 
joining first classmen in their strolls with the girls of 
their choice, and Duncan would have hesitated to do so 
had he not seen Morris bearing down upon Snap and 
45 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Constance. There was no love lost between Snap and 
Morris, as Duncan well knew, and upon seeing Morris’ 
move, the little lad had instantly decided to make the 
party four rather than three. Snap had already sized 
up the situation and was inwardly amused in spite of 
feeling that he might have handled it without Duncan’s 
aid. However, the time was growing short anyway, 
and in a few minutes he must escort Constance out to 
Wilmot Hall. So with an odd laugh he said: 

motorboats, young lady, are steam launches, 
and if you wish to be real sea-going and raty, you’ll 
pronounce the word la’nches. How about coming out 
in one before long.?” 

“I’d love to !” cried Constance. “Can you use them 
whenever you want to.?” 

“A first classman can always get one if he puts in 
a recq before the other fellow beats him out. That’s 
another pleasure in store for us one of these balmy 
October days. Make a note of that, Duncan. We’ll 
have a run up the river soon.” 

Duncan’s face glowed. He had tacitly been invited 
to form a member of the party: an honor duly prized, 
so plucking up heart of grace he said : 

“I say. Miss Howland, are you fond of sailing too.? 
Even plebes can do that, you know; in the cats, I 
mean,” he added quickly, as Morris turned a disap- 
proving glance upon him. 

“Ask a second classman to go along, or, better yet, 
ask when you take Miss Howland out, Duncan, then 
you’ll rate a half-rated ; those boats tied up yonder are 
46 


IN THE YARD 


half-raters, Miss Howland. Beat the cats out of sight. 
Do you like sailing. If you do you’ll think you’re a 
duck in one of those.” 

“She broke in little Duncan involuntarily, then 
nearly died of mortification as the others broke into 
shouts of laughter, Constance with them. 

“Snappy work! Keep it up, sonny,” commended 
Snap, clapping him on the back. “Glad to see you so 
appreciative. Let the good work go on.” 

“I love sailing, Mr. Duncan, and will go with you 
whenever you’re good enough to invite me. Perhaps I 
can lend a hand too. I’ve done a good deal of it up on 
Narraganset Bay with some good friends I have up 
there.” 

They had now turned up the Maryland Avenue walk 
and were in sight of the tower clock. The hands pointed 
to six-twenty. 

“Don’t you have supper formation at six-twenty- 
five.?” asked Constance quickly. 

“Yes, but there’s time to burn,” answered Snap. 

“I’ve a horror of fire, so take me back to the gate, 
please. I told Tante I’d be back at six-thirty sharp. 
There isn’t time for you to take me out to Wilmot Hall 
now,” and turning quickly she led the way to the gate, 
escorted by the three men, where good-nights were 
said. 

As Constance walked slowly back up Maryland 
Avenue, Katherine Bell rushed by her. With a brief 
good-night, she hastened on to Mrs. Waltham’s, and 
if one could judge by the young lady’s expression the 
47 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


hour had left some things to be desired. Constance 
was as puzzled as a child at the strange attitude of 
this girl, who seemed to regard her almost as an 
enemy, though why she could not surmise. But she 
soon forgot Katherine and fell to thinking about the 
coming hop — what would it be like and which of the 
men she had met would be on her card? They were 
all splendid, good company and good to look at, and 
yet, in looks anyway, none of them quite equalled the 
owners of a certain pair of gray eyes she had seen up 
in the Baltimore station. 

Who was he anyhow? And how absurd the whole 
situation had been ! That idiotic baby and abominable 
bag! She laughed softly as she recalled the scene. 
Would the man ever cross her path again? Probably 
not. He was just one among thousands of other trav- 
elers, as she herself had been, each going a separate 
way, and — yet ! But what nonsense ! Was she becoming 
a sentimental schoolgirl, or had she suddenly plunged 
into such a romantic atmosphere that she was imbibing 
it and already painting fanciful pictures? Truly the 
setting was conducive to all manner of romantic expe- 
riences. 

And how unlike her former life at home. As the 
eldest sister, Constance had been compelled to assume 
greater responsibility than the average girl of her 
years ; to think more for others. Her mother depended 
upon her in a thousand little ways, and her life at home 
had held less of the Irresponsible frolicking than Gail’s 
or Polly’s. She was more of a companion to her 
48 


IN THE YARD 


mother, entering less the social world of young people 
than her sisters. She made fewer friends than the 
pretty sixteen-year-old Gail, now in high school pre- 
paring for college. Yet in some respects Gail seemed 
the older of the two. Certainly she had been more 
sought after by the happy-go-lucky young people of 
the town. Constance had found her amusements and 
diversions in other directions. 

How Gail would be admired in Annapolis, where all 
her fascinating little ways would make her so popular 
with these men whose training from the moment they 
entered the Academy was planned with a view to fitting 
them for the drawing-room or the quarter-deck, as need 
demanded. This was evident from little Duncan 
straight up to Fay, whose manners Constance readily 
conceded to be as near faultless as instinct and train- 
ing could make them. It was certainly very agreeable 
to have in constant attendance a man who anticipated 
every wish, who proffered every little attention, whose 
grace and charm were so marked. She gave her head 
a little toss of sheer satisfaction as she recalled his 
ceaseless attention to her from the moment of her arri- 
val. Then, strange freak of fancy, again the gray 
eyes of the Baltimore station seemed to look into her 
own, and the look recalled another pair which they 
strongly resembled, and which she had known since 
childhood. 

Yes, they were like Hart Murray’s eyes, though 
Hart’s eyes lacked the twinkle at the corners. Hart’s 
49 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


sense of humor was not his strongest characteristic 
by any means. 

Dear old Hart, they had been such good chums for 
years, squabbling and playing together when children 
exactly as Polly and her chum, Ralph Wilbur, were 
now doing. Then had followed boy and girl pleasures. 

But within the last four years had developed a sort 
of matter-of-course appropriation upon Hart’s part 
which had nettled Constance not a little; as though 
their future relations were a foregone conclusion and 
he held some sort of proprietary claim to her, all with- 
out any special merit, or effort upon his part to hold it. 

This attitude had become more and more marked 
during the past few months, and the girl had grown to 
resent it and draw away from her old friend. It had 
held no little Influence in deciding her to spend this 
winter away from home and his petty and unwarranted 
jealousies. 

He had rebelled against her decision: ‘‘Couldn’t see 
why she wanted to go chasing off to Annapolis where 
she didn’t know a soul but her aunt.” 

That there were a good many “souls” down there 
whom she might very speedily know, and who would be 
very glad to know her. Hart knew full well, and though 
he did not choose to admit it, he was secretly daunted 
by the thought. Heretofore he had never dwelt upon 
the outcome of his very matter-of-fact wooing of Con- 
stance Howland. Of course they would be married 
some day. He had never mentioned that somewhat im- 
portant fact to her — what was the use.^* She knew it 
50 


IN THE YARD 


as well as he did. They had grown up together, her 
family was sure to approve, they were made for each 
other, and when they were ready they would step com- 
fortably into matrimony as they might step into a 
taxi or a trolley car, or any other prosaic vehicle of 
transportation and journey to their destination. He 
had ample means to pay their way when the proper 
time should arrive. 

That Constance might have very pronounced ideas 
of her own regarding her method of journeying through 
life, and also of the engineer, chauffeur, or whatever 
he might prove, who conveyed her, never seemed to 
enter into Hart’s calculations, and when, a few days 
before her departure he very prosaically outlined his 
plans for their future, he received a distinct shock 
when she promptly declined to bind herself by an en- 
gagement or to make any promises. 

Then for the first time in all his twenty-four years 
Hart Murray began to realize that Constance Howland 
was a very attractive and very beautiful girl, and that 
she was endowed with more than the average desirable 
qualities. Also that she was upon the point of leaving 
for a section of the world where several hundred very 
agreeable men about his own age would be pretty sure 
to be fully alive to this fact. 

And thus stood matters when Constance left Mont- 
gentian and met with her funny experience upon the 
platform of the Baltimore station. And this after- 
noon! Well, she had been forced to keep her wits 
awake, and more than once had felt her escort eyeing 

51 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


her sharply. And what eyes they were! Flattering, 
irritating, challenging, baffling all at once. 

But she felt a little thrill as she realized that she 
had several times surprised a puzzled expression in 
them too, as though the man who had the reputation 
of many conquests had not been able to size up to his 
entire satisfaction the girl he was walking with. 

She smiled as this salient fact was borne in upon 
her, and decided to keep him guessing for a while. 
Perhaps she was beginning to find herself in this new 
world of men and to understand her own power. 


52 


Chapter V 


‘‘my affinity” 

“What time are we expected to present ourstrlvea at 
Mrs. Harold’s.?” asked Clinton Wayne the following 
Saturday as he was preparing to make his call upon 
Mrs. Harold’s niece. 

“The game is called for three,” answered Hunter, 
as he toyed with the blue-backed Regulation Book that 
lay upon the study table. 

“Then I’m going to beat it at two. I’ve got to meet 
the lady, you know. Curse the luck that makes me 
sit on the side lines when I ought to be playing.” 

“Oh, your luck still holds, — ^nice girl — isn’t she, 
Hill.?” asked Hunter of the man who was brushing his 
hair in the adjoining bedroom. 

“A peach. Clint’s in fortune’s lap, only he doesn’t 
know it. But that’s nothing unusual; he never does 
know when to be satisfied. Things come his way too 
easily. I did my best to give him a jar this time, but 
might have known better than to butt my head against 
a stone wall.” 

“Luck came my way too, didn’t it. Hill.? Say, you 
couldn’t make that two dances to-night, could you, 
Clint.?” asked Snap as he was busily engaged in pour- 
53 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

ing tobacco into the ink well and every other receptacle 
handy. 

‘‘You’re lucky to get one, my son. I believe you put 
the lady wise to. some things you shouldn’t have during 
that stroll on Thursday afternoon.” 

Snap looked up and asked imperturbably: 

“Wasn’t it kinder than to let her run up against you, 
while her education was so imperfect.^ Have you 
made out that dance card yet?” 

“Yes, I did it last night. Put on all the best dancers, 
of course. If she proves my affinity you get one. If 
otherwise, you may come in for two,” was Clint’s com- 
placent reply. 

“What will you bet I don’t get two. Hill?” 

“Bet — nothing! I’m out a dinner already on the 
lady’s account. Mean to know her better before I 
jump in any deeper.” 

“I saw her card. You’ve got three dances with her, 
beauty,” said Fay, who had entered the room in time 
to overhear Clint’s words. “He wouldn’t favor me to 
such an extent, though. Why are you so restless in 
there, Clint, old man?” as the sound of falling shoe- 
brushes could be heard from Wayne’s bedroom. “You 
must be getting ready to give someone an awful treat.” 

An hour later Clint, accompanied by Snap, ran up 
the stairs of Wilmot Hall and hurried down the cor- 
ridor to Mrs. Harold’s suite. Mrs. Waltham with her 
three charges was already there waiting for the men 
who would make up the party, Mrs. Harold’s room 
having been agreed upon as their rendezvous. Mrs. 
54 


MY AFFINITY 


Harold immediately rose to greet the men and welcome 
Clint. Constance had gone into her own room to get 
her gloves. Anna immediately began to flutter and 
preen. Snap strolled over to greet the beauty Beatrice 
Leighton and pay the expected compliment, but Kathe- 
rine cried to Clint before any one else had a chance to 
speak : 

“Oh, how are you, Clint? So glad you’ve got back. 
The hours have been insupportable without you. How- 
d’do, Mr. Hunter. Did Clint’s courage fail him at 
the last moment so that you had to bring him over? 
He’s so modest and retiring.” 

“No, Snap came primarily to sustain you, Kathe- 
rine, and I don’t want to interfere. He knew Morris 
would spend hours getting himself up in fetching shape 
and Snap’s sympathy is always his strong point. Un- 
limited supply for the damsel in turmoil of spirit. 
Great day for the game, isn’t it. Miss Leighton? Gang- 
way, Snap; you are blocking my passage to that 
window seat; Anna made room there for my special 
benefit, didn’t you, little one?” asked Clint, smiling 
benignly down upon Anna, whom he had known since 
she was thirteen. 

Just then Constance entered the room and both men 
instantly rose to their feet. Snap being nearest was 
the first to be welcomed by her. Then Mrs. Harold 
said: 

‘Let me present you to my niece, Mr. Wayne. The 
others are all old friends by this time.” 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


If she wondered at the rapidly increasing twinkle 
of those gray eyes she did not give evidence of it. 

Constance offered her hand and for one little fleet- 
ing second Damsel and Knight Errant looked straight 
into each other’s eyes. Then the room rang with 
laughter. 

‘‘Why?” 

“What?” 

“How’s this?” 

“Why didn’t you tell us you knew him?” 

“Didn’t I say New York suburbs were not slow?” 
came the volley of exclamations and questions. 

“You get one^ Snap,” said Clint, holding up one 
Anger and looking straight over the head of the girl 
in front of him. “Is the bag all safe. Miss Howland? 
Let’s sit down in the other window seat and talk it 
over.” 

“No, you’re not going to sit down anywhere until 
you both explain,” cried Mrs. Harold. “So out with 
the story, for I know there is one, and Connie, has it 
something to do with that Baltimore episode you were 
going to tell me about but never did?” 

The various details of their first meeting having 
been carefully related, Clinton Wayne and his “affin- 
ity,” for Snap promptly told that tale, were on their 
way to the Navy-Harvard game to be fought out upon 
the Athletic Field, the whole party in a gale over the 
story. The field was crowded, the Navy eager for the 
contest and Harvard confident of repeating the vic- 
tory of the previous year. 


56 


MY AFFINITY 


In order to mass the volume of voices for the 
cheering all midshipmen are compelled to occupy one 
section of the bleachers and remain in their seats 
throughout the game; the cheer leader, with his huge 
blue and gold megaphone, stands upon the ground at 
the entrance to the tiers of seats. Consequently this 
debars the men from sitting in the section occupied by 
the girls they escort to the game. 

There are, however, ways and means of surmount- 
ing this impediment to unalloyed pleasure, and the 
first classmen escorting Mrs. Harold’s party had long 
since discovered them. To send a few plebes ahead to 
hold desired seats is a simple expedient. Two rows of 
seats running parallel upon either side of the railing 
“dividing the sheep from the goats” enabled the femi- 
nine portion of the party to still sit beside the mascu- 
line portion, “with the rail between them and nothing 
more”. 

Thousands had gathered upon the field that won- 
derful autumn day, and rarely is seen a more vivid, 
animated picture than it presented. 

Once settled, with Clint upon the other side of the 
dividing line, Constance glanced up in time to see the 
Plebe Color Guard march on the field with the Navy 
banner. At the foot of the Midshipmen’s section they 
took off their caps, broke ranks, and then carried the 
colors to the top row, where they floated in the crisp 
autumn breeze and stirred the hearts of all who saw 
them, for that banner means more to the Midshipmen 
than any other in the world. 

57 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


The Harvard team was running through signals 
when the Navy squad came running on, to be greeted 
by a thundering cheer. But since the last Navy-Har- 
vard game was played the Navy had worked up to a 
degree their opponents little guessed, and during the 
ensuing two hours Harvard learned that the future 
admirals could do something to make the crimson 
sweaters wake up and take notice. 

And during those two hours of play a few other facts 
were impressed upon two or three persons watching 
the game. For the first time in his life the unsuscept- 
ible Clint began to learn the subtle charm of dark 
brown eyes, mobile lips, a complexion like a wild rose, 
and masses of dark brown, wavy hair, and Hunter, who 
sat just behind him, doing the dutiful to Miss Leigh- 
ton, smiled quizzically as he watched Clint’s absorp- 
tion in the lady beside him instead of in the game. 

Ordinarily, girls did not exist for Clint when a 
game of football was in progress, but now the fact 
that he must sit upon the bleachers as escort to one 
of the fair sex, instead of filling his place upon the 
field, seemed to hold alleviating conditions after all. 
If some clever plays were overlooked while matters of 
more personal interst were uppermost, who shall criti- 
cise If in the gray eyes bent upon her Constance 
felt something familiar and friendly, was it not be- 
cause they so strongly recalled to her another pair up 
in Montgentian Yes, the eyes were alike, but there 
the resemblance ended. Hart’s face lacked the whimsies 
of this one and — well — Hart seemed to regard it as a 
58 


MY AFFINITY 


matter of course that she should exert herself to enter- 
tain him, whereas this man, in common with all she had 
met in Annapolis, was exerting himself to entertain 
her. An order of things entirely satisfactory. Con- 
stance began, all unconsciously, to draw comparisons, 
and, had Hart been present, he would undoubtedly have 
stated very emphatically that comparisons are odious. 

When the winning touchdown was made by the 
Navy quarter-back and the “Touchdown Yell,” — most 
cheerful of sounds to a middie’s ears, — ^went soaring 
up, every one on the field, parade ground and even 
those far beyond the walls of the yard knew that Navy 
had as good as won, and a few minutes later time was 
called and the Four “N” yell. 

Navy! Navy! Navy! 

N-N-N-N 
A- A- A- A 
V - V - V - V 
Y- Y- Y- Y 
Navy! Navy! Navy! 

announced victory for the jerseys bearing the yellow 
“N”. 

As her party moved slowly from the field, Mrs. Wal- 
tham called out: 

“Now, don’t you all go strolling off. Miss Howland, 
remember you’ve promised to come and make the salad 
dressing, and Mr. Wayne can taste it, for he’s noth- 
ing if not an epicure.” 


59 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


The words evidently fell upon deaf ears, for at that 
moment Constance and her escort were in deep con- 
versation. 

“Hi there !” called Billy Crosby. “Up in a balloon, 
Wayne? Thought the ascension had begun, — and you 
a football man, too. Bet you couldn’t tell the score 
to save your life, Constance.” Billy did not hesitate 
to take advantage of his privileges. As Mrs. Wal- 
tham’s nephew even a second classman might take it 
out of a first upon occasion, and as for Miss How- 
land — why what was the use of standing upon cere- 
mony with girls who visited his old friend Mrs. Harold? 
Surnames were a bore anyway and he hated to be 
called Mr. Crosby. “I’m Billy, first, last and forever,” 
he had explained with a comprehensive wave of the 
hand upon being introduced to Constance. 

Wayne turned his head slightly, glanced at Billy 
and — well his eyes had troubled him a good deal lately. 
Perhaps that fact explained the slight contraction at 
the outer corner of the one nearest Billy. Constance 
looked quickly toward Mrs. Waltham and asked: 

“What did you say about my dress, Mrs. Waltham? 
I beg pardon, but I didn’t hear. These men have gone 
wild and that march — what is it called? ‘Anchors 
Aweigh’? — the band is playing, is enough to set us all 
off on a two-step right here. What did you ask me 
about the score, Billy?” 

“Asked if you could tell it; said I bet you couldn’t; 
your interest’s on the Wayne I’m afraid. Better keep 


60 


MY AFFINITY 


tabs or you’ll get in Hunter’s bad books; he’s a foot- 
ball enthusiast,” was the innocent reply. 

When Mrs. Waltham’s home was reached the girls 
hastily laid aside their things and put on the big pantry 
aprons which the butler and his satellites had left 
handy, as well as everything for the supper to be 
served after the hop. Mrs. Waltham was an ideal 
hostess and believed this plan one calculated to work 
more than one good end, for the servants were thus 
left free to prepare the dinner to be served her eight 
guests at seven, said guests finding it no end of a lark 
to be turned loose at the base of supplies, for ‘‘Holly- 
hurst” was a very popular rendezvous. 

“Here, Clint, you cut this cake, and mind you don’t 
hack it instead,” ordered Katherine, as she placed a 
huge fruit cake upon the table and handed a knife to 
Clint. 

“How must I cut it?” he demanded, eyeing with con- 
siderable longing the tempting loaf before him, for 
October air is bracing. 

“Cut it in nice little squares and don’t make a 
crumb.” 

“What will happen if I do make ’em?” 

“You’ll have to eat every one to save them from 
being scattered all over the floor,” was the unguarded 
answer. 

“No rhino from me on that score. I won’t waste 
one. But why can’t we have the protection that you 
girls have? It’s a shame to turn us into pantry maids 
and deny us pantry togs. I say, Miss Howland, pin 
61 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


that pretty blue and white apron on me, won’t you? 
This cake’s sticky and I mustn’t lay hands on any- 
thing ” 

‘Tt will never reach round you,” laughed Con- 
stance, picking up one of the big gingham aprons and 
holding it at arm’s length. 

“Yes it will if you sort of loop it up behind. Belt’s 
too sylph-like, of course. Better suited for your 
slender, slender form.” 

“Weil, duck down, then, while I slip the neck band 
over your head. There now, revolve, pretty creature, 
and let me see how much the waist band falls short in 
circumference. Draw in your breath and hold it!” 

“How — h-o-w long must I?” 

“Long enough for me to demonstrate my ability to 
make both ends meet. It’s one of Martha’s and — oh, 
look where the button is !” cried Constance, as the con- 
tracted waist suddenly expanded and burst the button 
off the band to send it rolling across the floor. 

“Told you to pin it up by the stuff. Did you think 
I could stand here half an hour with my pumping 
machine out of commission?” 

Meanwhile Hill had been an amused observer as he 
held a vase of water while Katherine Bell arranged a 
bunch of roses for it. As she turned from the table to 
put them into the vase Hill’s attention became more and 
more absorbed in Constance’s efforts to make both 
ends meet, the vase in his hands tilting each moment 
at a wholly reckless angle, till just as the flowers were 
arranged the limit was reached and the young lady, 


MY AFFINITY 


the flowers and the stately midshipman’s feet caught 
the deluge fairly and squarely. 

‘‘Now that was clever! Do you think me in need of 
baptism?” she cried, glancing from the discomfited 
man to the unconscious cause, her black eyes a-twinkle, 
for Miss Katherine was not slow to notice the quarter 
in which the wind set. 

“Go on with your cake cutting and let me get busy 
with my salad dressing,” ordered Constance, turning 
to the shelf to select her ingredients and leaving Clint 
to saw away industriously at the fruit cake. 

“Bring your things to this table. Lots of room to 
mix your stuff,” urged Clint. 

“Yes, and when it’s done find it plentifully peppered 
with cake crumbs. No, thank you. Shall I ask Mrs. 
Waltham for a hatchet? You’ll find it much more 
effectual than the knife to chop with,” retorted Con- 
stance. “Please, Mr. Hill, make a long arm and reach 
that flask of olive oil from the upper shelf if you have 
succeeded in finishing one of Mrs. Waltham’s best glass 
towels. I doubt if she designed it for a shoe polisher, 
or a floor mop, but it has served its turn. Now come 
over here and help me make the dressing par excel- 
lence. Here’s a snug comer on the pantry shelf.” 

“What must I do? Douse in the oil?” asked HiU, 
eagerly. 

“If I catch you dousing it in we’ll be enemies for 
life ! Do you think I’m going to have my one accom- 
plishment jeopardized, you reckless man? Oh, take 
care, Billy! If you hit my elbow while I’m separating 
63 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


this egg yolk it will be worse than the vase of water, 
I can tell you. Mrs. Waltham was a wise woman to 
provide this big apron.” 

Meanwhile Katherine having rescued both vase and 
roses had carried them into the dining-room and was 
now busy in another corner of the pantry with Morris 
and Snap making sandwiches. As she cut the bread into 
wafer-like slices Morris spread on the butter and 
passed it along to Snap, who laid on the paste of cream 
cheese and chopped nuts, more than one dainty morsel 
finding its way into mouths ever ready for such tit- 
bits. 

“Where’s that plate gone?” cried Katherine when a 
pile of sandwiches was completed and nothing at hand 
on which to lay them. 

“Billy had it. Hi, Billy! Bring back that plate,” 
roared Snap in a voice deep enough to be heard in 
quarters. 

But neither plate nor Billy appeared. 

“Anna, do bring us a plate for these sandwiches. 
Billy’s gone, ” 

“Yes, and so has Anna,” interrupted Morris, glanc- 
ing through the pantry door. 

A soft light fell from the quaint hall lanterns, light- 
ing dimly the broad staircase and landing at the 
farther end. On the end of a broad seat, snugly en- 
sconsed in the pillows, a plump little figure was out- 
lined against the opal-tinted glass of the window be- 
hind it, and close, close beside it bent a masculine 
form. 


64 ) 


MY AFFINITY 


“Twosing party. I’ll get the plate for you,” said 
Morris, but at that moment Mrs. Waltham appeared 
at the pantry door to say: 

“Boys, it is six-fifteen and you’ve got to go. Quick ! 
get ready or you’ll be late!” 

“And look at the state I’m in,” exclaimed Clint. 
“Turn on that faucet. Miss Howland, and let me get 
my fingers apart. That cake had glue in it, I know. 
Hustle, you men. Beat it! If we’re late to-night 
when the bugle busts and I’m ragged it’s the conduct 
grade for yours truly.” 

Five minutes later every man had vanished. 

“Why, what’s happened to my fruit cake?” was Mrs. 
Waltham’s dismayed question when she looked at the 
plate of cake Clint had been cutting. 

About a dozen little slices lay upon it, and at one side 
of the table were a few scattered crumbs. 

Constance gave one look and collapsed with laughter. 

“Miss Bell told him he must eat all the crumbs he 
made to keep them from scattering on the floor.” 


65 


Chapter VI 


THE SHELE-PINK GOWN 

“Now stan’ still, honey. Yas’m, righty dat-a-way 
in de very middle ob de floo’ whar I kin speculate yo’ 
from all sides. Yis, I wants yo’ right spang unner 
dat chan’leer whar de light fall full ’pon yo’ haid an’ 
glorify it. Bress Gawd! but yo’ is purty, an’ I’s like 
ter bus’ wid pride to see de work ob ma ban’s 1” rhap- 
sodized old Martha, giving the last touches to Con- 
stance’s toilet as the girl stood in her room gowned 
for the hop, a picture of sweet, fresh, unaffected girl- 
hood, as natural as God had made her. 

With Martha’s aid Constance had spent the previous 
hour making her toilet for the hop. Not as elaborate 
a one as some of her companions would appear in, 
but one exquisitely perfect in its simplicity. If the 
gown she wore could have spoken it might have told 
many an interesting tale. It had belonged to her 
grandmother, and for long years had been laid away in 
a wonderful old sandal-wood chest waiting for the day 
when Constance, the eldest granddaughter, should be- 
come twenty years of age. She would be twenty that 
winter, and before she left home for the long visit, Mrs. 
Howland had given the gown to her, and Constance 
had altered it herself, permitting no one else to lay 
66 


THE SHELL-PINK GOWN 


fingers upon it. Grandmother Drake had been a belle 
in her day, and this dainty, exquisitely embroidered 
crepe, brought to her straight from that land of 
cherry blossoms and wisteria by her sailor sweetheart, 
exhaled from its folds the very breath of romance, as 
it exhaled the delicate perfume of the sandal-wood. 

The lines of the gown had been kept as near the 
original style as modern fashion permitted, but the 
outlines were quaint to a degree. The bodice short, 
the sleeves mere tiny puffs, the skirt full enough to 
show its classic lines. Her wonderful hair was rolled 
high upon her head, little locks that proved rebellious 
falling softly from the rolled pompadour. A small 
pink gauze and tinsel butterfly made a dainty hair 
ornament. 

“Oh, Martha, what shall I do if you flatter me this 
way.^” cried Constance, looking down upon the kind old 
face raised to hers as the old colored woman knelt 
upon the floor to lay straight a misplaced fold. 

“ ’Taint flattery ! It’s de Gawd blessed truf !” pro- 
tested Martha. “Ain’ yo’ a-stannin’ dar de livin’, 
breathin’ tes’imony ob what I’s sayin’.?^ Wha’ yo’ git 
dat gown ?” 

“It belonged to my grandmother, Martha, and she 
left it to me. Mother kept it carefully put away, and 
gave it to me when I was invited here.” 

“Yis, but wha’ yo’ fin’ a dressmaker wha’ mak it look 
lak yo’ was done borned and growed in it des lak de 
peach skin is done growed on de peach?” persisted 
Martha, her black hands handling with wonderfully 

67 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


delicate touch the soft folds and graceful fall of the 
sheeny crepe. Then rising to her feet she raised a 
medallion of the exquisite, creamy lace which lay upon 
the girl’s neck. 

Constance colored slightly, but nearly a week’s close 
association with the kindly old negress had taught the 
girl several facts. She knew that no amount of pecu- 
niary reward could have won such service as Martha 
had given her; that only affection for her, the affection 
so often becoming almost a worship, and which was 
by no means uncommon in antebellum days, had 
prompted the thousand and one little attentions, 
thoughtful acts and indefatigable service given from 
the moment of her arrival at Wilmot. 

Laying her hand upon the old woman’s shoulder and 
looking into her keen eyes she said: 

‘T made it myself, Martha. Yes,” as doubt over- 
spread the good woman’s face — “every stitch. Some- 
how I felt I must. It was grandmother’s and I loved 
her so dearly. I couldn’t let others — others change 
it for me, you know.” The voice was wonderfully soft 
and sweet, and a little catch came into it with the last 
words. “Yes, I made it over myself, and trimmed it 
with this lace, which was on mother’s wedding gown, 
and it all means so much to me, Martha. No other 
gown could be quite the same. Do you understand? 
I am sure you do. So please give me my lovely bunch 
of violets. Aren’t they beautiful against the pink? 
Now my fan and gloves, and Martha, will you please 
carry my wrap and shoes and scarf down to the recep- 

68 


THE SHELL-PINK GOWN 


tion hall? It is so late that I’m afraid we’ll have to 
scramble. Good-bye. Thanks to you, I know every- 
thing is just right,” and lightly tossing a kiss from 
her finger tips the girl hurried from the room, a love- 
lier, sweeter picture than she realized. 

As Constance set foot upon the landing of the broad 
stairway the sound of voices and laughter came float- 
ing upward, for Wilmot was crowded with guests on 
this big night and presented a brilliant scene. Mrs. 
Harold was entertaining Mrs. Waltham and her guests 
at dinner, after which all would proceed to the Armory, 
where all dances were then given. The men had just 
come hurrying in from Bancroft, and were at the other 
side of the room removing their coats. Mrs. Harold’s 
friends stood before the open fire-place talking gaily. 

Presently the men joined the group near the fire, 
whereupon Katherine and Anna assured them “they 
looked too sweet for words !” Beatrice, unknown to 
Constance, had gone up to Mrs. Harold’s room osten- 
sibly to have Martha replace a lost pin, but in reality 
to give a little extra attention to her complexion. 

Anna, in pale blue meteor, her fair hair, blue eyes 
and baby-face rising from a wonderfully fluffy crea- 
tion fresh from a fashionable dressmaker’s hands, and 
her plump figure by some mysterious method known 
only to her maid and herself, moulded to its limita- 
tions, was casting ravishing glances at Billy Crosby, 
who was industriously struggling to make a rebellious 
lock of hair stay in place. 

Katherine stood close to Clint examining his class 


69 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


ring with deep interest, a bit of by-play to serve a 
double purpose, since it engaged Clint’s attention and 
enraged Morris, who was talking to Mrs. W^altham, a 
mirror reflecting all that was taking place behind him. 

Emmet Hill, who never looked handsomer than in 
the full-dress uniform which displayed to perfection 
the faultless outlines of his figure, stood at a little dis- 
tance from the group an amused observer, and was 
the first to catch the sound of the light footfall upon 
the landing as Constance descended. The faintest ex- 
clamation escaped him, but Clint’s ears were keen, and 
Katherine, whose back was to the staircase, saw him 
give a little sudden uprising of the head and a new 
light spring into his eyes as he involuntarily took one 
step forward. It passed in an instant and there was 
scarcely a perceptible interruption in his words and 
not the slightest change in his tone as he said: 

‘T was in luck when father gave me that stone. Glad 
you admire it. Here comes Miss Howland. Must we 
fall in line now.?^ All here.?” 

‘‘All but Beatrice, as usual. Bea knows better than 
to arrive with a crowd,” and Katherine gave an impa- 
tient flirt to her train. The gown was a gorgeous 
creation of filmy net and silver spangles, its bodice 
composed prlnicpally of two shoulder bands and a few 
folds of lace, the major portion of the material lying 
upon the floor. Clint advanced to meet Constance, 
who had paused upon the last step, the light from the 
lantern just over her head falling full upon her. 

Constance’s color, already heightened by excite- 

70 


THE SHELL-PINK GOWN 


merit, increased slightly as Clint drew near. There 
was a light of intense admiration in his eyes as he 
said: 

“She comes as a wild rose.” 

“Oh, but you see it isn’t rose pink at all, but shelU 
pink, in honor of the Navy. A fig for a man’s idea of 
shades.” 

The keen gray eyes had not been idle while the 
girl was speaking. Every graceful, natural outline of 
her figure, the soft whiteness of her neck, upon which 
the delicate lace rested, the stately poise of the head, 
which told its little tale of ancestry, the wonderful 
coloring of the skin, eyes and hair were photographed 
back of the eyes looking upon her. 

“Is it.f^ I’m afraid I’m not much up on colors, but 
you can’t sidetrack me on what I like, and it isn’t the 
gown that does it all.” 

“Come to dinner this instant! How many dances 
are you planning to miss, you foolish young people.?” 
cried Mrs. Harold, suddenly sweeping down upon the 
group, a picture of matronly beauty in pearl gray 
satin and superb lace. 

The dinner, although time proved limited, was a 
merry one, and at eight all started for the Armory. 

Those who enter that vast building for their first 
Naval Academy hop are not likely to forget the im- 
pression made. The arches of electric lights, the flags 
draped from the balcony, the glamor and glitter below, 
handsomely gowned girls forming a perfect kaleido- 
scope of beautiful colors, the splendidly set-up men in 
71 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


their uniforms, the band’s inspiring strains, — ^what 
man’s or maid’s toes can keep from tingling? Along 
the walls row upon row of rifles in their racks flash 
back the rays of light. At the eastern end a long line 
of field guns give hint that the building has not been 
constructed for festive scenes only. They are grim 
reminders of a sterner side of life and of duty and 
loyalty to Old Glory draped overhead. At the present 
moment, however, they served as resting places for beau- 
tifully gowned girls with gay cavaliers grouped around 
them. The gallery above was crowded with chaperons 
and visitors who preferred to look down upon the gay 
scene, and the plebes who might look into “the prom- 
ised land” until the nine-thirty gun sent them scurry- 
ing back to quarters. At the right of the entrance the 
long “Stag line” waited and wavered, and kept a sharp 
lookout in the hope that the man who had won out and 
secured dances with the girl of his choice, might miss 
her in the crowd and leave her “unattached” for some 
dance. 

“Hurry, girls, or you will miss your first dance,” 
said Mrs. Waltham, as the men left them at the door 
of their cloak room and rushed off to leave their coats 
and caps in the one opposite. 

“Aren’t you thrilled?” whispered Katherine, as a 
few moments later she and Constance came out of the 
dressing-room; “I am,” and she turned to join Morris, 
who stooped to whisper : 

“My dream.” 

Clint, who just then joined Constance, overheard 

72 


THE SHELL-PINK GOWN 


the inane remark and mentally commented: “Watch 
out that she doesn’t prove your nightmare, man,” then 
escorted Constance to the receiving stand. A moment 
later she was floating down the Armory to the strains 
of the “Red Mill,” played as only “Zimmy’s Band” can 
play it. 

“Well, I thought I’d danced before, but that waltz 
‘beats out’, is that right?, — any I’ve ever had. Oh, 
but the music is wonderful,” she said as the dance 
ended and her partner led her to a perch upon one of 
the guns. Her eyes shone and her cheeks were flushed 
from excitement as Clint reached for her fan and she 
consulted her card. 

“All these men on my card and I’ve met only two or 
three of them. The first four dances with you?” she 
asked questioningly. 

“Sure thing. The man-you-come-with’s pr'ivilege 
down here. Oh, you’ve loads of things to learn about 
a midshipman’s little ways. Better keep me on hand 
for reference. You’ll find me useful.” 

“Perhaps I shall, or I may get into difficulties before 
I’m many days older, although the men I’ve met thus 
far seem tractable. But oh, my favorite two-step!” 
and the gloved hands came together in a little clasp of 
sheer rapture. 

“Then we won’t miss a bar of it. Come. Great fun 
down here, isn’t it?” he asked as “Way Down in Tropic 
Colon” whirled them away. “Lots doing all the time 1” 

“I should think so! Why, there hasn’t been a free 
second since I came last Thursday, and this morning 

73 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


I had to spend nearly every minute shaking out my 
frocks and frills for this festive occasion.” 

“Shook to some purpose, I see,” answered her part- 
ner, glancing down at the dainty little figure he was 
guiding in and out among the innumerable couples and 
thinking he had never seen anything lovelier. 

“Had to, you know. I must do honor to the Service 
if possible.” 

“Good; you have the right idea at the start.” As 
the music ceased they fell in with the long line of 
promenaders. 

The intervals, like the dances, were short, and before 
Constance had time to realize it “The Merry Widow 
Waltz” had enticed them across the floor and was 
beckoning them on with all the fascinations at her 
command. 

“Tired asked Clint, as the dance ended. 

“Tired !” echoed Constance, springing lightly to her 
perch upon a gun. “Do I look done up already.^” 

“You look, if possible, prettier than when you 
started, but here comes Snap for you,” he ended 
abruptly as that individual came to claim number five, 
exclaiming under his breath : “George ! she’s a peach. 
This is my dance. Miss Howland. Beat it, Clint,” and 
the next moment she was borne away by the best 
dancer in the Academy while Clint hurried off to claim 
his dance with Katherine, saying softly: 

gave him one dance, but dollars to doughnuts he 
gets more, and — pipe your eye, Clint, old man, for 
Hunter’s wise to the lady’s charms, all right.” 

74j 


THE SHELL-PINK GOWN 


‘‘You’re tired. Oh, yes you are. You may not 
know it, but I do,” insisted Snap when the one dance 
Clint had vouchsafed him ended. “Besides, you haven’t 
been up in the balcony yet. The view from that east- 
ern window by moonlight is great, — so is the moon 
to-night. Come. There are only a couple of Red 
Mikes up there now and they’ll beat it when we show 
up!” 

“What are Red Mikes.?” asked Constance, laughing. 

“Red Mikes ; non-fussers ; slow coaches, you know. 
The fair sex has no attraction for them, — more fools 
they. They don’t know what they miss, but they’ll 
wake up some day. Don’t even look at them; they’re 
no sort of use now. Let me claim your entire atten- 
tion,” was Snap lordly order as they drew near the 
bench in front of the broad eastern window from which 
a wonderful view of Chesapeake Bay was spread before 
them, the moonlight turning the water to burnished 
silver, the lights from the craft at anchor shimmering, 
wavering and breaking as the waves danced in the 
winds of that soft October night. In the distance 
gleamed the steady beacon light of the little lighthouse 
that marks the entrance to the Severn. 

A couple of Hunter’s classmates sitting by the 
window rose, and with a nod to him and a quick glance 
at the girl turned and moved away. Constance drew 
closer to the window, fascinated by the fairy-like pic- 
ture it framed. Snap drew back a trifle but did not 
look beyond the window. His picture was closer at 
hand. 


75 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


When Constance turned to him the shining eyes 
held a suggestion of mist. The man saw and like a 
flash read what lay behind them. For one fleeting 
second his own softened. The better side of his nature 
had again been touched in that brief time and there 
was more of the better side than the average person 
suspected, although many were skeptical. 

“A tiny bit homesick? Such a picture as that out 
yonder hits deep, doesn’t it? But we’U be good to you 
down here.” 

She gave him a quick look of gratitude, realizing 
that he had read her mood better than she had her- 
self. Then the Snap whom most knew, or thought 
they did, came to the fore again as he asked: 

‘‘Who is your partner for the next dance? Let me 
see your card, please?” In taking it he managed in 
the most casual manner to place his hand over the 
gloved one holding the card for his inspection. “Oh, 
that’s only Billy, and he’ll be tickled to death not to 
find you. Anna can take care of him!” 

“Well, I like that I” protested Constance. 

“Glad you do. Truth is always wholesome, you 
know. Let the seventh go and we’ll — look at the view. 
Didn’t I tell you it was wonderful? What’s on for to- 
morrow? Coming over to chapel, of course. Mine 
will be the honor after service, remember. I’ll be 
angelic.” 

“What honor? I am sure I don’t know what Tante 
has planned. There are angels and angels, you know,” 
she replied. 




THE SHEI.L-PINK GOWN 


“She will be sure to wait to show you dinner forma- 
tion, and you know you are wild to see us all out on the 
terrace. We make a big show, and you’ll be able to 
hear the orders read, and wait for us to escort you 
over to Hollyhurst. And so I’m asking now on the 
‘come early and avoid the rush’ principle. Mind you 
wait for me.” 

“Maybe I will and maybe I’ll not, Mr. Man, but now 
I’m going down for that dance. This view is all very 
pretty and most exceptional, but so is that music. So 
come !” and with a little nod of defiance at her doughty 
two-striper, Constance rose from the bench on which 
they had been sitting and started toward the stairway, 
her companion glancing at her quizzically as he re- 
luctantly followed. 

“The man may have the strongest will, but the 
woman has the strongest won*ty so I suppose that for 

the time being the man must follow, but ” and 

with this ominous conclusion they reached the floor, 
where her partner for the seventh and eighth dances 
came up to claim her, saying to Snap as he drew near : 
“Well, I like this ! But I might have known you would 
be in it.” 

“From his expression and words I conclude Hill’s 
been searching for you. You win. Hill, but don’t show 
her the view from the east window; we’ve just come 
from there.” 

As he was about to leave Constance in her new part- 
ner’s charge the fair lady of the bleachers stopped 
Snap to say: 


77 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


“Oh, Mr. Hunter, you must present me to Mrs. 
Harold’s charming niece.” 

Constance could not help overhearing the words and, 
of course, paused but wondered at the swift change 
which had overspread Snap’s countenance. The intro- 
duction followed. 

“Miss Howland, Mrs. Cardine,” was all Snap said. 

There was a slight contraction of the older woman’s 
face when the girVs name was used first, but she greeted 
her effusively, concluding with: 

“But run along, dear, such a belle as I see you are 
destined to become must not be detained. I shall give 
myself the pleasure of calling upon you very soon.” 

Constance did not hear Snap’s muttered, “The devil 
you will,” as he hurried off to seek his next partner, 
not a whit disturbed by the fact that he had cut his 
dance with Mrs. Cardine and done Hill out of one of 
his with Constance. 

“I had a chase to find you. Miss Howland,” said Hill. 
“Mrs. Howland said you would be near the guns, but 
if Clint hadn’t put me wise that you were in Snap’s 
tender care I’d never have found you at all. He usually 
travels a little highway of his own surveying.” 

“So it seems,” said Constance, as she placed her 
hand upon her partner’s arm. She was beginning to 
feel here an undercurrent quite different from the 
placid surface. 


78 


Chapter VII 


MY lady’s EAVOR 

That “time gallops withal” Constance began to 
understand before she had spent many days at Wilmot 
Hall with her aunt. Not one passed without some 
drill or athletic practice and, even though the social 
season in Annapolis does not begin until December, the 
football game really opening it, many of Mrs. Harold’s 
friends hastened to call upon her niece. Among the 
first was Mrs. Cardine, though she could hardly be 
called Mrs. Harold’s friend, and not an hour of an 
afternoon was unfilled. 

About a month after the evening of her arrival at 
Wilmot Constance and her Aunt were in the former’s 
room as she dressed for the Thanksgiving hop, Mrs. 
Harold giving the last finishing touches to the girl’s 
pretty toilet before going into her own room to dress. 

“I’ve half a mind never to let you go back to your 
own home, sweetheart,” she said affectionately as she 
adjusted the pretty hair ornament, a chou of narrow 
pink satin ribbon. “There, that is as dainty, — ^well, 
as the face beneath it,” she ended, pressing her lips 
to the cheek which excitement had turned to a wild 
rose tint. 


79 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


“Are you going to spoil me, Aunt Janet, and unfit 
me for the sterner duties up North where mother bides, 
and I dare say needs me this very minute while I’m 
frisking and frolicing down here?” asked Constance, 
returning the caress and for a moment nestling in her 
aunt’s arm. 

“You have earned your frolicking, dear. I know 
more of the past five years than you guess. Your 
mother is a capital correspondent and I am wiser than 
you ken. I know what you have been to her and to 
Gail and Polly, so enjoy your holiday to the full and 
let me feel that I’ve been instrumental in bringing it 
about. And now I must fly and dress or Snap will be 
here before I’m ready for dinner. Are you going to 
let his black eyes prove a magnet to hold you in the 
Service?” ended Mrs. Harold, laughing lightly as she 
looked into the girl’s eyes and patted the cheek which 
had suddenly taken on a deeper tint. There was a 
slight ring of doubt in her tone nevertheless, for even 
though fond of Hunter, there were other men whom 
she felt she knew better and whose character appealed 
to her more strongly. She had yet to learn the true 
side of the man’s nature. This was revealed to very 
few. 

A row of photographs stood upon the dresser in the 
room which Mrs. Harold had assigned to Constance; 
among them were Snap’s, Hill’s, Fay’s and Clint’s. 
Taking up the four the girl stood scrutinizing them 
closely. How unlike they were even on paper. She 
moved over a little until the light of the electrolier fell 


80 


MY LADY’S FAVOR 


full upon her, emphasizing every line and curve of face 
and figure and giving to her gown of soft white silver- 
dotted chiffon a silvery sheen. She looked especially 
charming as she stood there, her face wearing a serious 
expression as she compared one photograph with 
another. 

The originals had been most attentive and thought- 
ful for her during her five weeks in Annapolis. Hardly 
a day had passed without her seeing them, and under 
such conditions friendships ripen quickly. After study- 
ing each face intently, she turned quickly and replaced 
the photographs upon the dresser, saying with a proud 
little uplifting of the beautifully poised head: 

“What nonsense! They are all good friends and 
are giving me the time of my life, but it will take more 
than a pair of handsome eyes in any man’s head to 
prove a strong enough magnet to hold me in this Ser- 
vice — or any other.” 

As she was about to set Clint’s picture in its place 
upon the end of the dresser it slipped from her grasp, 
and, with the usual perversity of inanimate objects, 
slithered to the floor, carrying with it a letter lying 
upon a table near by. 

With a petulant exclamation, Constance bent to pick 
them up. The letter was one she had that morning 
received from Hart Murray, and with it had come a 
little kodak picture of him taken by Polly. The snap- 
shot had slipped from between the folds of the letter as 
it fell, and by a strange freak was now lying face-up- 
ward beside Clint’s picture, the two faces looking up at 

81 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


her, one with the whimsical expression which was be- 
coming so familiar to her; the other with the grave, 
serious look she recalled so well. But in this little pic- 
ture the old familiar expression had somewhat changed: 
it had become half-defiant, half-appealing. 

Constance held the two pictures side by side to study 
the faces more minutely. What constituted the marked 
difference in these two men, who in many ways bore 
such a strong personal resemblance to each other 

As though in answer to her question, a breath of air 
from the open window, for the evening was singularly 
mild, fluttered the open letter she held. She half- 
mechanically raised it and began to read, and as she 
read her lips took firmer lines, as unwittingly she spoke 
her thoughts aloud: 

“No, I shall noty and it is useless to try to force 
me to. We have always been good friends. Hart, and 
I think a whole lot of you, but not enough to bind my- 
self forever. Not yet — anyway. Perhaps this winter 
will decide it all. I am just beginning to learn that 
there are other men in the world, and that they possess 
different, but equally appealing qualities. I wonder if 
you would have written such a letter as this to — ^well — 
any girl.?” she queried, as she looked closely at Clint’s 
picture. Then she began to read aloud bits of the 
letter she held. It ran: 

“Dear Con : — ” and continued with an invective 
against her prolonged absence. “Honest now, do you 
think it’s fair to keep me perched on the fence like 
this.? I don’t — ^by George, I don’t! We’ve known 

82 


MY LADY’S FAVOR 


each other long enough to dispense with sentimental 
nonsense, Con. You know you’re the only girl in the 
world for me; you’ve always known it; you couldn’t 
help it; could you now, honest? What would have 
been the use of my dinning it into your ears every 
minute? I’ve no sort of use for the man who is eter- 
nally telling a girl what a charmer she is. If she is 
one she knows it all right, and unless he’s dead slow 
he can make her understand that he knows it too. Hot 
air’s no good anyway. 

“Come home. Con. I’m desperately lonely without 
you. Nothing seems just the same since you went 
away, and the business grind grows deadly. Yet you 
know I’m sticking to it for your sake. 

“Your mother says you’re having the time of your 
life down there with all those men dancing attendance 
upon you. Is that why you don’t write to me oftener? 

“Of course they can dance attendance. Why not? 
They haven’t a thing in this world to do besides.’^ 

Here Constance gave the letter a petulant little flirt, 
exclaiming: “How can he be so narrow? It would be 
a good thing for him to spend a few months here. Per- 
haps he’d learn whether these men haven’t a thing in 
the world to do besides dancing attendance upon girls ! 
Why Hart has never learned the definitions of routine 
and discipline. He has no idea of the system which 
blocks out every hour and day of these men’s lives. No, 
he has practically had everything his own way, and 
doesn’t begin to realize how much he has had of the 
good things of this world. He’s a dear lad, all right, 

83 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


but he has been spoiled by too much indulgence; the 
fate of many an only son of a doting mother. ‘Busi- 
ness grind’ Constance laughed softly. “From ten 
to four each day in his father’s office giving a few 
orders and signing cheques. Arduous work, to be sure. 
Wake up, Hart, and do — something ! Stand for some- 
thing ! Then — well — maybe ” 

Just then her eyes involuntarily encountered those 
of Clint’s picture. With the trick of some photo- 
graphs, they seemed to be looking straight into her 
own, twinkling humorously, as though laughing at 
her half-confessed concession to the writer of the 
letter. 

The girl blushed and hastily set the picture in its 
place beside Snap’s on the dresser. What was it in 
the impelling, challenging looks from Snap’s dark eyes 
which instantly held her own as though in a spell 
“I believe I’m growing daft!” she exclaimed, as she 
turned hastily and hurried into her aunt’s bedroom. 

When they entered the sitting-room a few minutes 
later Snap was seated in a low chair before the open 
fire. He had slipped in without their hearing him. 
He was holding an umbrella which he had picked up 
from the couch and carefully examining the gunmetal 
handle, which was in the form of a golf stick, for he 
was a devotee of the game. Springing to his feet, but 
still holding the umbrella, he cried impulsively : 

“I say, that’s a he — ahem ! dickens of a stick 1” then 
for once in his life stood nonplussed. 

Constance looked at him in bewilderment. Not so 


84 


MY LADY’S FAVOR 


Mrs. Harold. Turning to the confused man she re- 
marked serenely: 

‘‘You shut off steam just in the nick of time, son,” 
while Snap, who had in a measure recovered his 
equanimity, answered: 

“You’re right I did, although I knew I was going to 
make a bust I couldn’t stop it to save my life. Over- 
look my shortcomings, Aliss Howland, and I’ll be good. 
Now take me down to dinner, Mrs. Harold, before I 
get into further disgrace, and we really haven’t much 
time to spare if we’re to get over for the first dance.” 

Two bells were striking when at the end of a dance 
with Clint, who had managed to get his name put on her 
card for three of the earlier ones, since he had to 
leave at ten to keep strictly to his training, he said: 

“Let me get your wrap for you and then come with 
me out on the Colonnade. It’s a wonderful old night 
and you are just the one to appreciate it. Somehow 
I’m not in the mood for the light fantastic to-night. 
Game is too close at hand, I dare say. It’s as mild as 
October and a breath of fresh air will set us both up 
after the rush and light in yonder.” 

In all the yard there is no more beautiful spot or 
more fairy-like outlook. When they reached the middle 
of it Constance drew her evening wrap about her and 
leaned upon the eastern railing, from which the whole 
stretch of the bay lay shimmering before them. Clint 
leaned against a column watching her. For some min- 
utes neither spoke, then she said: 

85 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘It doesn’t seem possible that in less than seventy- 
two hours the game will have been played, does it?” 

“The game ; yes, the game,” repeated Clint. 

“George, what the game means to us ! Miss How- 
land, do you think you understand even a little bit? 
It means, it means everything to me, anyway. It’s my 
last chance to fight for the Navy.” 

“Yes, I think I realize now, although I didn’t before. 
I believe it is impossible for anyone not connected 
with the Service to understand how much depends upon 
that one game. We all enthuse more or less as we 
read of it in the papers or see it played, but only since 
I’ve been down here have I been fired by true enthu- 
siasm. The Harvard game did it. Now I’ll go wild if 
we win and distracted if we don’t,” answered Con- 
stance, looking up at him. 

“That’s just it! The outside world looks upon it 
simply as a corking game of football, one of the best 
they can witness. The people in the Service know it to 
be the crisis of the year’s work, the final throw for pre- 
eminence. We could lose every other game if it came 
to such a pinch provided we made good in this. Why 
every man in the Navy, no matter where he is sta- 
tioned, hangs upon the outcome. We simply can’t fail 
them.” 

“Yes, I think I can understand it all now. It holds 
something of the spirit of the old days of chivalry, 
doesn’t it? True, there is no ‘ladye faire’ in the case, 
unless it be the Goddess of Victory,” smiled Constance. 

** Isn’t there a ‘ladye faire’?” he asked. “I hardly 

86 


MY LADY’S FAVOR 


hope to see a fairer. And you know the knight always 
wore a token of his special ladye faire! Suppose you 
give me one and let me name you as mine pro tern/’ 
said Clint, half seriously, half lightly. 

The girl’s white, even teeth were revealed as a soft 
laugh answered him, and she gave her head a quick 
little shake of denial, and said: 

“I haven’t a vestige of a token to bestow; not a 
sign.” 

But her words were instantly stamped false, for the 
toss of her head had loosened the pins which held the 
chou of pink ribbon in her hair and it fell upon the 
stone pavement at Clint’s feet. 

‘‘Fate is kinder than you,” he said quietly as he 
picked it up and unfastening a button of his dress 
jacket slipped the knot of ribbon inside it. 

“Oh, please! What will my hair look like.f^” begged 
Constance quickly, extending her hand for her hair 
ornament. 

“You do not need a tiny bunch of pink ribbon to 
emphasize Nature’s gifts. She has been lavish. I do 
need it — as an inspiration to great deeds next Satur- 
day. Don’t begrudge it to me. It may save the day, 
you know. Do you realize that a whole lot depends 
upon your moral support.?” 

Under pretext of arranging her wrap around her 
shoulders, his hand touched hers as she raised it to 
adjust a loosened hairpin and his fingers closed about 
hers. Looking into her face he said half whimsically: 

“Wish me success upon the field, Constance, and — 

87 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


in lots of other things too. I shall keep my lady’s 
favor and — ^but I dare say I’d better take you back if 
I’d save my head; this is Snap’s dance and he will be 
looking for you.” 

“You certainly would, and — do you very much mind 
letting go of my hand, Mr. Wayne? I need it for my 
own use.” 

When the hop ended a merry party gathered in 
Mrs. Waltham’s dining-room, where a delicious little 
supper awaited them though Clint, in strict training, 
could not join it. 

Probably there has never been a Naval or Army 
station which has missed the affliction of the married 
flirt or the fascinating grass-widow, and more than 
one has descended upon Annapolis in the course of its 
history. During the previous winter, in Snap’s second 
class year, Mrs. Cardine had arrived upon the scene, 
the bride of Ensign Cardine. He had met her in New 
York in the second year of his commission and at the 
end of a month they were married. In the course of 
the following year Ensign Cardine had attained the 
rank of Lieutenant, and with his promotion had come 
orders to join the New Mexico, then on the Paciflc 
coast. Mrs. Cardine had no desire to accompany her 
spouse; Annapolis held too many new and novel at- 
tractions. Consequently she kept her home out in 
town, establishing therein for Mrs. Grundy’s peace of 
mind an elderly and very deaf aunt. 

Mrs. Cardine’s daintily appointed home soon be- 
came a rendezvous for many midshipmen, for where is 
88 


MY LADY’S FAVOR 


the beautiful, vivacious young matron who lacks her 
following? 

That she was utterly untrustworthy and ready to 
turn down her most devoted admirer, providing a new 
light who promised greater amusement appeared upon 
her horizon, everybody knew perfectly well, and that 
she was making some of the men the laughing stock 
of the Academy was also very clear. But for once in 
her life she had met her match. In Snap she had 
found it a case of diamond cut diamond and the very 
difficulty of comprehending the man spurred her desire 
to conquer. She had first met him at an officer’s hop, 
and from that moment her infatuation was complete. 
They were opposites, and science has a very simple 
explanation for the instant attraction of such. Dur- 
ing his second class year Snap had danced attendance 
upon Mrs. Cardine, as did many others, taking her to 
hops, informals and various other entertainments, but 
it was at the beginning of his first class year, and 
with the acquisition of his two stripes, that her interest 
in him became keenest; a striper has many privileges 
denied to a second classman. Moreover, her infatua- 
tion for him grew as the man grew ; from twenty-one to 
twenty-three radical changes take place in the average 
man and they had been particularly marked in Snap. 
It would have been hard to find a handsomer man. 

And Snap’s attitude toward the lady? When he 
said to Mrs. Harold, ‘‘He sighs to many,” Snap had 
practically epitomized his own character. Still there 
was in Snap’s character the element common to his 
89 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


sex; an easy conquest lost zest, and it had been more 
than easy in Mrs. Cardine’s case. Nevertheless it was 
pleasant to have a delightfully cozy home open to 
him, a woman ever ready to entertain him by all the 
fascinating arts of which she was a past-mistress, 
and more than ready to accept his attentions. Indeed, 
if Snap required any instruction in the art of playing 
at love-making, he had no need to go any further. 

And thus stood matters when Constance Howland 
came to Annapolis, and with her coming a new epoch 
began in Harry Hunter’s life. 

In the nature of things, Mrs. Cardine was in the 
midst of the social life of the Academy and the town, 
for marked distinctions cannot be made in a small 
place unless matters are carried too far. So on this 
Thanksgiving eve she had, of course, been at the hop, 
and more than one person had been aware of her in- 
terest in Snap’s movements. But Constance was new 
to some of the ways of the world, and especially the 
ways of the Academy. It is needless to add that she 
and Mrs. Cardine had little in common, but it did not 
take Mrs. Cardine long to waken to the fact that in 
Constance she had a rival, and a dangerous one too, 
though the pretty little rival did not realize her power. 
Thus it happened that Mrs. Cardine was one of the 
party gathered at Mrs. Waltham’s after the hop, for 
Mrs. Waltham was less discriminating in her choice 
of friends than Mrs. Harold. 

The supper was in full swing and every one in the 
gayest spirits. The men were hurrying to and from 
90 


MY LADY’S FAVOR 


the pantry with ices and cakes, the women and girls 
were seated in every corner. Mrs. Cardine sat facing 
the pantry, and by some chance Constance was seated 
next her when Snap came toward them, his hands filled 
with refreshments. No one ever quite knew how it 
happened, but as Constance took her plate from Snap 
her arm was sharply jogged and the plate’s contents 
landed in Mrs. Cardine’s lap. 

Instantly Constance was upon her feet, deeply mor- 
tified and offering apologies. Mrs. Cardine laughed 
it off, but the laugh held a ring which those who knew 
her best distrusted most. 

“Oh, it is nothing. Miss Howland. How absurd to 
let it distress you so. My gown is impervious to the 
stains. Now please don’t say another word, and, — Mr. 
Hunter, will you please come with me into the pantry 
to help me repair damages if there really are any? I 
saw you with a large towel in there. No, Miss How- 
land, you shall not come: — Too many cooks, you 
know,” and Constance, sincerely contrite at her un- 
accountable awkwardness, was forced to submit to Mrs. 
Cardine’s dictum as the lady hurried into the pantry 
with Snap in tow. Constance did not see Hill’s eyes 
grow dark. It was only natural under the circum- 
stances that her’s should follow the pair, even though 
Hill soon managed to come to her side. It was during 
a moment of hilarious fun just behind them when Hill 
had turned to answer someone’s question that Con- 
stance happened to glance again toward the pantry. 
Snap had just turned from hanging the big towel upon 

91 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


its hook, and was bending slightly to examine the con- 
dition of Mrs. Cardine’s gown, when in one little fleet- 
ing second her arms were raised and laid caressingly 
about his neck, and lightly as a feather her lips were 
pressed to his cheek. 

Hill turned just in time to see Constance flush up, 
but neither saw Snap spring back, or the almost anni- 
hilating light which darted from his eyes at the smiling 
face before him as she said sweetly: 

‘‘You dear boy, your reward for saving my gown.” 

“Damnation!” breathed Snap through set teeth, for 
one swift glance into the room beyond had been enough 
to show him the whole situation. 

Within the hour Mrs. Waltham’s guests were de- 
parting. 

As they were saying good-night in the dimly lighted 
hall Snap contrived to reach Constance’s side. She 
was standing alone in a little alcove tying her scarf 
about her head. Without a word he held out his hand 
to bid her good-night, but for the first time since he 
had met her the frank hand-clasp was denied him. The 
blood surged into his face in a torrent as he said 
below his breath : 

“So this is the outcome of that devilish business in 
the pantry, is it? Well, I dare say I’ve got just what’s 
coming to me — ^but it comes harder than you’ll believe, 
Constance.” 

Without a word the girl turned to leave the alcove, 
but Snap instantly barred her way and strove to take 


92 


MY LADY’S FAVOR 


her hand. She drew it quickly away and darted into 
the hall, where her aunt and Hill were waiting for her. 
Clint, owing to his duties on the team, had asked Snap 
to bring Mrs. Harold and Constance in that night, and 
being obliged while in training to turn in at ten-thirty, 
had asked Hill to take them out to Wilmot Hall after 
the hop, for Snap had promised to escort one of Mrs. 
Waltham’s proteges home. 


93 


Chapter VIII 


ON FRANKLIN FIELD 

Mrs. Harold had been in another room while Mrs. 
Cardine was playing her game at Mrs. Waltham’s and 
knew nothing of the episode, and in the general con- 
fusion did not notice the change in Constance, and 
Hill, of course, gave no sign as he escorted them to 
Wilmot, but declined Mrs. Harold’s invitation to smoke 
a cigarette in her sitting-room before going back to 
Bancroft, a consideration for which Constance was 
duly grateful. So good-nights were said below stairs, 
and when they reached their rooms old Martha was 
waiting for them. 

‘‘Why, Martha,” exclaimed Mrs. Harold. “You 
should not have waited for us.” 

“Wanted ter say good-night ter ma baby, so done 
stopped in on my way back f’om de chu’ch festible. 
But dat baby ob mine look cl’ar frazzled out. Wh’r 
aU yo’ roses, honey.?” and Martha looked keenly at 
Constance. 

“I am tired, and my head aches. No, don’t worry 
about me, Tante. I’m only tired, and if you don’t 
mind I’ll go straight to bed. Good-night,” and the 
girl kissed her tenderly, letting her head rest upon 
her aunt’s shoulder for a moment. 


94 


ON FRANKLIN FIELD 


“Are you sure you are not ill, dear?” asked Mrs. 
Harold, just awaking to the change in Constance’s 
voice and her lack of color. 

“Sure. Just tired. Good-night, Tante.” 

“A thousand to you, my darling,” said Mrs. Harold 
fervently and watched her as she left the room, adding 
mentally: “I wonder what has happened?” 

“Now don’ yo’ so much as lif yo’ finger, honey. Yo’ 
jist let Marfa put yo’ ter bald lak her baby,” said the 
good soul, gently forcing her charge upon a chair and 
deftly and quickly removing the pins from her gar- 
ments. Constance leaned back with a weary sigh, and 
Martha remarked: 

“I hopes termorrer ain’ gwine be such a rushin’ day. 
I ’clars for it, dem midshipmens kin out-run racehorses 
an’ never know dey’s done it, and dem what’s rushin’ 
yo’ ’roun’ de hull endurin’ time is de bangin’est set ob 
de hull lot. Dat Mr. Hill is so big, and dat Mr. Fay 
so full of all de doin’s, and Mr. Clint, Tie beglnnln’ fer 
ter think he cyant live a dey lessen he tote yo’ some 
whar ; den dars de wurst of de lot — dat Mr. Snap-man ! 
My, but he’s a pow’ful masterful young man! When 
he set out fer ter do sumpln’ or make somebody else 
do it, — well now ’tain’t a mite er use fer ter stan’ 
out ’gainst him. No’m, ’tain’t, fer a fac’. But my, 
he’s a han’som’ man. I ain’t wonderin’ de wimmin- 
folks cl’ar ’stracted b’ut Aim,” ran on Martha as she 
let down and brushed the beautiful hair, her keen old 
eyes watching every change upon the face she had 
grown to love so devotedly. 

95 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘^Are they distracted about him?” asked Constance 
indifferently. 

‘‘Dey sure is, an’ some on ’em pintedly makes fools 
of deyse’f’s over dat man. But I ain’ reckon he carin’ 
a snap ob his finger for er one oh em, ceptin’ jist fer 
ter hab his fling an’ a good time, no I ain’, fer I’s 
known dat boy eber since he been in de ’Cademy, an’ 
I knew he’s ma too when she was a-visitin’ him here 
fer de las’ time. She was one mighty sweet lady, I 
tells yo’. An’ de way dat boy look arter her — well — 
now, when a man do lak dat fo’ his ma, yo’ mark ma 
words, baby, he’s good at de core. Yas ma’am, he is.” 

Martha paused, and her listener was unaware of the 
piercing scrutiny to which she was being subjected; 
Martha had not been Constance’s maid for the past 
weeks without drawing a few sage deductions. 

“Do you think so?” she asked idly. 

“I Tcnows it, honey! Yo’ ol’ Marfa ain’ live sixty 
years in dis hyer roun’ worl’ fer nothin’. She sees an’ 
hears a heap an’ she lets it all sink in an’ she ain’ sayin’ 
nuffin’ lessen she see t’ings jist nachelly gwine wrong 
en’ fo’most. Den she speak out plain. Now run long 
to yo’ baf-room, baby, an’ when yo’ comes back I tucks 
yo’ in yo’ baid fer ter go bye-low.” The old woman 
watched her as she crossed the threshold, and mut- 
tered to herself: “I’ll bait he’s de cause ob dose white 
cheeks, an’ ma Lawd! ef he done been mean ter ma 

baby I’s gwine frazzle him out, but ” and a sudden 

change flashed across Martha’s face, transforming it — 
“I bait ’tain’t him: I bait it’s dat debbil-woman, an’ 
96 


ON FRANKLIN FIELD 


ef ’tis — ! Well, she better stan’ cl’ar ob Marfa! Fs 
gwine straight ter Reuben Rastus termorrer mornin’.” 
A few moments later Constance was back in her bed- 
room, but there was no trace of the ominous fury in 
Martha’s face or voice as she tucked her into her bed 
and turned out the electric light, and said in her melo- 
dious negro inflection: 

“May de Lawd Gawd bress yo’, my baby, an’ hoi’ yo’ 
safe in de holler ob His han’ f’ever an’ eber. Amen.” 

But the following morning Martha and her son 
“Reuben” Rastus, Mrs. Waltham’s butler, had a most 
significant confab. Martha was a typical negress and 
lacked none of her race’s characteristics. Moreover, 
the Annapolitan who engages a negro servant would do 
well to learn some of the ramifications of that servant’s 
family. Reuben Rastus’ sweetheart was Mrs. Car- 
diners cook. 

The following day passed without Constance seeing 
Snap, and in the bustle of preparing for an early 
start for Philadelphia on Saturday morning, Mrs. 
Harold almost forgot the events of Wednesday even- 
ing. Indeed, the girl seemed as bright and cheery as 
ever on Friday morning, and entered enthusiastically 
into the send-off given the team upon its departure. 
That long-looked-for thirtieth of November, whifch 
was to bring with it the Army-Navy game, dawned 
clear and crisp and Constance, awakened by the bugle 
calls and orders that betokened the departure of the 
brigade for Philadelphia, sprung out of bed and hur- 
ried to the window which overlooked the yard and the 
97 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


terrace of Bancroft Hall. The battalion had already 
been formed and while she watched they swung into 
squads and marched away toward the Maryland Ave- 
nue gate to be hidden from her sight by the chapel. 
She turned from the window just as a knock sounded 
on her door and the cheery voice of her aunt said: 

‘‘Better be stirring around in there, dear. Our train 
leaves in little over an hour, you know. You had better 
put on some heavy clothes too, because it’s going to be 
cold and windy up in Philadelphia.” 

It was a trim little gray clad figure which entered 
the sitting-room a few minutes later, and Mrs. Harold 
smiled approvingly at the Navy colors pinned on her 
niece’s coat. 

“Do I look all right. Aunt J anet ? I thought I never 
should get dressed! Seems to me everything turned 
hind-side-before and I do want to look well to-day, all 
in honor of the blue and gold, you know.” 

“Shall we have early morning inspection?” laughed 
Mrs. Harold. “Revolve and let me see.” 

Her eyes dancing, cheeks glowing and lips parted 
in a happy smile as though all memory of Wednesday 
evening was forgotten, the girl turned slowly around, 
a little questioning light creeping into her face as the 
revolution ended. 

“Immaculate! Not a pin crooked or a lock astray. 
You do me credit. But come down to breakfast, honey, 
or we will have something more than our personal ap- 
pearance to cause us concern. To lose our train 
would be a calamity too horrible to contemplate!” 


98 


ON FRANKLIN FIELD 


“Powers forbid!” cried Constance, catching up a 
beautiful set of silver fox furs, her aunt’s gift to her, 
and hastily leaving the room. 

In the short time that Constance had been at Wilmot 
Hall the aunt and niece had grown closer than ever to 
each other. Always a favorite with her mother’s sister, 
the girl had crept into her heart more and more each 
day, and Mrs. Harold blessed the providence which 
had let her have Constance with her during this winter, 
which had promised to be a rather lonely one. 

At the breakfast table and on the train during the 
two hours’ ride to Philadelphia, the game and the latest 
rumors concerning it, as gleaned from the morning 
papers, were the sole topics of conversation. Once out 
of the special and in the streets of the old Quaker City 
there was no chance to forget it. Everywhere were the 
colors of the rivals, the black, gold and gray flaunting 
defiance at the blue and gold of the other branch of 
the Service; but Philadelphia is a Navy city, and it 
was with a little thrill of pleasure that Constance 
noticed that the majority of the passing automobiles 
were decorated with the colors she was wearing. The 
Army supporters were plentifully in evidence, how- 
ever, and Constance gave a little sigh of relief when the 
last bit of gray was lost to sight as she and her aunt 
left their taxi and passed through the broad doorway 
of the Walton, — the hotel serving as Navy head- 
quarters, — and which showed only friendly bunting. 

As they entered the dining-room there was a wild 
waving of arms and napkins from a nearby table 

99 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


where Mrs. Waltham, who had travelled up the night 
before, was sitting with Katherine Bell, Beatrice, Ned 
Morris and Fay, the two last named having managed 
to get this far from Franklin Field in the short hour 
since the arrival of the midshipmen’s train. 

“Welcome to Philly,” cried Fay, as the men jumped 
up to assist in placing chairs for the newcomers. “I 
am glad to see you sporting the right kind of ribbons. 
Miss Constance.” 

“Oh, I’m a regular Navy girl to-day,” laughed Con- 
stance. “This gray suit is worn only for protection 
against the wintry blasts, and not as moral support to 
the Army team.” 

Their luncheon was rather a hurried one, for the 
men had to be in ranks at a quarter to two, and the 
grounds of the University of Pennsylvania, which are 
loaned to the two Government academies for their big 
game, are several miles from the downtown portion of 
the city. Fay and Ned kept the table in a little gale 
until they had loitered for the last possible minute, 
and then rose and rushed off with hurried good-byes. 

The crowd, a happy jostling one, was so thick at the 
North Stand gateway that Constance was unable to 
look around her until she and her aunt had reached 
their seats in the section next to the one to be occupied 
by the midshipmen, who had not yet appeared. Once 
settled, however, she had an opportunity to take in the 
scene around her. 

To realize the picture Franklin Field presents each 
year on the day of this greatest football game, one 

100 


ON FRANKLIN FIELD 


must actually see it. To Constance, looking at it for 
the first time, it was a revelation. In all the wide 
sweep of the stand not a vacant seat was visible save 
the two little quadrilaterals facing each other which 
were reserved for the cadets and the midshipmen. Tier 
on tier of color rose from the grassy field, which was 
marked into a gigantic checkerboard by broad white 
lines. 

Each branch of the Service was there in force. Griz- 
zled-moustached veterans of the field and quarter-deck 
whose lives had been spent in service to the flag float- 
ing in the chill autumn wind. Lives, in almost every 
instance filled with thrilling experiences, yet regarded 
merely as a matter of course, and accepted so mod- 
estly. Wonderful lives to those who paused long 
enough to analyze them, developing in the individual a 
promptness and decision which could cope with any 
emergency, but at the same time leaving these men 
even at ripe middle-age with a capacity for enjoyment 
and an enthusiasm equal to the younger ones. 

And with them had foregathered charming wives, 
lovely daughters, adorable nieces gowned in exquisite 
taste, and carrying themselves with that indescribable 
air inseparable from women connected with the Ser- 
vice; a reflected glory maybe, but none the less real; 
the unspoken honor to the calling of those whose names 
they bore. 

The very air was a-quiver with a holiday cheer as 
friendly greetings were exchanged upon every side. It 
is, after all, a big family party brought together to 

101 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


watch their sons fight a friendly battle. It has often 
been pronounced a very exclusive family and — ^well — 
maybe it is, but those who are worth while are gladly 
welcomed within its circle. It is a most adaptable 
family, however. If to-day it disports itself in silks 
and velvets, costly furs and fragrant violets, to-mor- 
row the wearer may be enduring hardships and depri- 
vations of which the average woman in civil life never 
dreamed, and beneath which the business man’s wife 
would crumple up. 

This game is unquestionably the most interesting of 
the entire football season, not only for its athletic, 
but also for its social side. The boxes which edge the 
field contain the men most prominent in the ofiicial 
circles of the country, for it is a rare year when the 
President of the United States and most of his Cabinet 
do not find time to witness the clash of the friendly 
enemies who will some day have to fight their battles 
side by side. For the Service themselves this game is 
the link which binds them to the schools they love, and 
admirals and generals, their work for their country 
almost completed, applaud the prowess of these younger 
sons, whose lives of duty and sacrifice are just begin- 
ning. It is in the nature of a reunion to the united 
Services, and every officer who can obtain the leave is 
on Franklin Field on the day of ‘Hhe game”. 

Constance had barely finished tucking her steamer 
rug about her, when the West Point battalion marched 
in at the South Stand entrance, the perfect lines of 
the gray companies bringing plaudits from both sides 


102 


ON FRANKLIN FIELD 


of the field. They broke ranks, climbed to their seats, 
planted their flag at the top of the stand where it 
could wave in the breezes, and settled themselves just 
in time to send the thunderous welcome of a ‘‘Long 
Corps” yell to the midshipmen who marched on the 
field from the other end, gay with blue and yellow pen- 
nants and megaphones, a sight which made the whole 
North Stand rise to its feet and cheer. They took 
their seats, and under the leadership of a cheer leader 
whose gyrations were beyond description, returned the 
Army’s compliment with a “Four N” yell, followed 
by a cheer for their hosts, the University of Penn- 
sylvania. 

Beyond the limit of the field in the Navy training 
quarters, the eleven men who were to begin the battle, a 
trifle white around the lips, perhaps, were listening to 
the last words of advice from the coach. They loved 
this coach, these eleven men. He had coaxed and led 
them, cursed and petted them through two seasons, 
and they trusted him implicitly. 

“You all know what this game means,” he said. 
“There isn’t a man here who hasn’t worked his best to 
be allowed to get into the next two hours of play. 
There’s a battleship in every port in the world wait- 
ing to hear what you will do, and out there,” as the last 
long “N-a-a-a-v-y” of a “Four N Yell” drifted to 
their ears — “are eight hundred of the best fellows in 
the world waiting for you to win. They’re all behind 
you, every man of them, and I don’t think you’re the 
team to disappoint them. I’ve done my best, — all the 

103 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


coaches have done their best, and you know all the 
football we can teach you. There are a couple of 
things I want to remind you of, though. Don’t forget 
about that business of getting under your man in the 
line, Norton, and you, Wayne, watch out for that end- 
over play of theirs. There’s one thing for you all to 
remember, — the team that won^t be beaten canH be 
beaten. And one thing more, — you know I’m not much 
on sentiment, but there’s something an old coach at 
Yale used to tell us before our big game that I’ll never 
forget. It’s this : 

‘Who misses or who gains the prize, 

Go, lose or conquer if you can. 

But if you fall or if you rise. 

Be each, pray God, a gentleman.’ 

That’s all. Fight hard for every inch. The Navy’s 
watching you and I think you are worthy of her. 
Take them out, Banta,” with a nod to the team cap- 
tain, and that stalwart warrior, football tucked under 
his arm, led his little band of fighters out to the 
grassy arena from whose sides thirty thousands voices 
gave them welcome. 

Clint had trotted on with the rest of the team, the 
coach’s words ringing in his ears even above the roar 
of the crowd. In the breathing space at the end of 
the short signal practice he glanced up at the stand to 
the left of the howling middies and toward two seats 
whose numbers he had carefully memorized. He was 
rewarded by a glimpse of the gray suit for which he 


104 


ON PRANKLIN FIELD 


was searching, and then let his eyes wander across the 
midshipmen, their fluttering yellow pennants standing 
out against the background of solid blue. A mist 
formed across his eyes as he looked at them and re- 
membered that this was to be his last chance to battle 
for the stern old school back on the Severn, and while 
he looked he knew that he was going to fight as he had 
never fought before. 

The Navy had won the toss, and chose to defend the 
West goal. With a fast beating heart, for this wait- 
ing time is the most trying of the whole game, Clint 
trotted to the white line that marked the defending 
right tackle’s post, but once the Army’s little quarter- 
back had sent the ball spinning over his head on the 
first kick-off his nerves settled down, and the cheering 
stands faded from his sight and hearing. He became 
the machine he had been taught to become, one of a 
perfectly trained team that could act together, and 
yet as a separate man, ready to take any individual 
chance which fortune might send his way. 

Up in the stand Constance felt the thrill which ran 
through the crowd when the ball from the first kick-off 
dropped into the arms of a waiting midshipman who 
was downed almost in his tracks by the Army players. 

The first clash showed how evenly the teams were 
matched. This was to be no easy victory, no matter 
who the winner. Slowly the Navy worked the ball 
down the field toward the enemies’ goal, only to lose it 
while five lines still separated them from the posts. 
In their turn they were forced to the defensive and 

105 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


slowly gave way, fighting doggedly for every foot of 
ground. 

Again and again the ball changed hands. Again 
and again the opposing full-backs booted the oval pig- 
skin up against the background of gray sky in long, 
twirling punts that brought the watching stands to 
their feet until the twisting ball had been safely caught 
by one of the other team, and if the issue seemed doubt- 
ful to the Navy the long, weird siren yell thrilled all. 
That yell has no rival — 

It’s wild ‘‘oo-oo-oo” in volume and pitch fairly soars 
skyward and carries one almost bodily with it. It is 
wild, inspiring, awesome, yet stirring and delightful to 
the last degree. It fires enthusiasm as no other yell 
can. 

Constance caught an occasional glimpse of Clint as 
he crouched low in the line opposite a heavy Army 
tackle. She knew that everything but the possible 
next move of the man in front of him had been crowded 
from his mind. She smiled as she wondered if perhaps 
a little bow of pink ribbon which had once belonged to 
her were on the field of battle. Had he been partly 
serious, or only joking? She felt that she had some- 
what undervalued this man who had done so much to 
make her Annapolis visit a delightful one during these 
past six weeks, and whose words spoken on the colon- 
nade had more than once recurred to her. Did she 
really mean so much to him? Did a whole lot depend 
upon her support, as he had said? Then came the re- 


106 


ON FRANKLIN FIELD 


membrance of his touch upon her hand and the color 
crept into her cheeks. 

How he was playing! No time for thought of her 
at that moment and — that rush I as a desperate struggle 
took place upon the field. She held her breath.. Was 
any one hurt? Was he — ? She turned to speak to 
her aunt. Anything to break the tension. 

Slowly the single hand of the big clock on the gym- 
nasium marked off the minutes and finally the first half 
ended without a score by either side, and the two 
teams ran off the field to leave their supporters to 
fight a vocal battle in their absence, — ^which they did. ^ 


107 


Chapter IX 


THE GAME AND ANOTHER 

For weeks the two academies had been practicing 
their songs, and across the gridiron they were hurled 
defiantly at each other. The mascots, the army mule 
and the navy goat, were led out on the field, both some- 
what diffident and sheepish looking, and paraded in 
front of the stands only by constant proddings which 
the attendant cadets and midshipmen were forced to 
administer. 

Between the halves there is always much visiting in 
the stands and Snap and Emmet Hill found their way 
to Constance and Mrs. Harold. They announced their 
intention of staying there during the second half, to 
‘‘point out the fine points of the game,” Snap put it. 

They showed her the President as he crossed the 
field to the other side, for since he is Commander-in- 
Chief of both the Army and the Navy he must show no 
partiality, and cheer through one half with each. They 
decorated her with their megaphones and ribbons, “to 
hide that gray suit as much as possible, you know,” 
and tried to teach her the songs. If Snap recalled the 
episode of Wednesday night he gave no evidence of 
that fact, for which Constance was profoundly thank- 
ful. Moreover, she was too excited by the happen- 

108 


THE GAME AND ANOTHER 


ings upon the field and all about her to let Snap’s con- 
duct, or Mrs. Cardine’s, fill her thoughts. She had 
cheered and yelled with the enthusiastic crowd, and 
just now her cheeks were crimson from the combined 
touch of the autumn wind and enthusiasm, and her 
eyes shone as she offered both hands to Fay, who just 
then joined the party. 

“Oh, we will win, won’t we? We couldn’t lose, could 
we, if Clint keeps on playing as he has?” she cried. 

“Yes, it’s sure up to Clint to win this game for us,” 
laughed Fay. “He’s got to hold down his job. Miss 
Howland.” 

But Constance was too brimful of excitement to note 
the significance of his words. Not so Snap. 

The minutes hastened by; the interval between the 
halves ended. The bands returned to their corners of 
the field, the teams trotted on, and the struggle re- 
commenced. From one side to the other they zigzagged, 
as up and down the field went the ball. Fifteen, twenty, 
twenty-five minutes were marked off on the gymnasium 
clock. Would neither side score? Must the game end 
in a tie? 

Dusk was gathering as the short November day drew 
to its close. How the Navy men were fighting! Some- 
thing had happened out yonder. Someone was down! 
Was it Clint? Was he hurt? Constance shuddered. The 
very stands held their breath. Then “oo-oo-oo,” up-up- 
up wailed the Siren Yell. Then Clint was up again and 
staggering into his place. Constance drew a long 
breatht Again the attack. To miss one of those punt§ 

109 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


might give the enemy the ball with an open field to 
the goal, and dire results for the team that let it slip 
through them. 

But wait! The Army team suddenly shifted, — 
what was that peculiar move? “And you, Wayne, 
don’t forget that end-over play of theirs?” The 
words flashed through his brain, but for one fleeting 
instant he had forgotten, intent upon the work more 
immediately before him, and down the field was tear- 
ing an avalanche of black jerseys, carrying the ball 
straight toward the Navy’s goal. One man, the sailors’ 
little quarterback, stood between that flying wedge and 
almost certain defeat. He knew his trust, and with, 
every muscle set stood ready. Just at the proper 
moment he braced himself, leaped through the air at 
the oncoming mass, and brought to the ground the 
Army’s hopes. 

What is that glint of yellow? The Army back has 
dropped the ball! Ah! Clint, you are responsible for 
the soldiers gaining these twenty yards; here is your 
chance to redeem yourself ! 

Quick as a flash he stooped and gathered the rolling 
ball into his arms, then with a sharp turn dodged the 
closest pursuer and started back up the field. Twist- 
ing and turning, he shook off the Army men until the 
white lines speeding under his feet told him that 
fifteen, twenty, twenty-five yards had been won back. 
Then he felt a grip tighten about his knees and came 
to the ground, the precious ball still safe under his 
arm. He had regained what he had lost and five yards 

no 


THE GAME AND ANOTHER 


more. Constance had sprung to her feet and was un- 
consciously clutching Hill’s arm. 

Seven minutes to play! Staunch little Navy quar- 
terback, if you have any football tricks in that curly 
head of yours this is the time to bring them out 1 You 
are within striking distance of the goal; it is now or 
never! The silence of a deadly suspense settles upon 
the watching thousands. 

He dropped back to the forty-yard line as if to try 
for a goal kick from the field. The Army team spread 
out in formation to receive the kick and were rarely 
surprised when he darted quickly toward the end of 
the line. Unnoticed the big Navy fullback had slipped 
down the field and just as the foremost Army tacklers 
reached the little quarterback that sailor lad made a 
beautiful forward pass of nearly thirty yards to the 
now waiting full. Quickly the back turned toward the 
soldiers’ goal, and in an instant was over the line for a 
touchdown, the ball planted squarely between the posts. 

From the north stand arose a cheer that was deafen- 
ing, but the crowd on the other side of the field was 
silent. 

It took but a minute to kick the goal, the ball sailing 
straight between the white posts. The next kick-off 
had barely taken place when time was called. The 
Navy had won ! 

Some day, perhaps, amid the clearing smoke of a 
hard-fought battle the men who sat in the north stand 
will watch the fiag of a beaten enemy flutter down 
from the peak of a battered battleship, and feeling the 

111 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

thrill that comes of hard-won victory realize it as the 
feeling that swept over them that day. 

Down on the field swarmed the middies, carrying 
before them in their mad rush the ropes that marked 
the limits of the gridiron. Borne aloft on their 
shoulders, the team was carried across until they were 
in front of the West Point stand, and there eight hun- 
dred voices sent up a mad cheer. 

They were good losers, these Army lads, and 
they returned cheer for cheer. Even in their delight 
the middies felt for their gray-clad brothers, and when 
the blare of the band proclaimed ‘‘The Army and Navy 
Forever” they all joined in the chorus. 

‘‘Our team is strong and steady. 

And so is West Point’s too. 

The Army and Navy forever. 

Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue.” 

Then they swept back onto the field, joined hands 
and spread out into a gigantic circle, leaving the center 
of the gridiron clear save for the stalwart color-bearer 
who stood alone in the center, the proud blue and gold 
floating over him. Up in the air flew yellow pennants, 
megaphones, and blue caps as the men rushed together. 
Then, the band at their head playing “Anchors 
Aweigh,” they swung around the field and out at the 
eastern gateway, leaving the way clear for the cadets 
to take their departure. 

And then the gray battalion did a pretty thing. 
Standing, with caps held across their breasts, they sang 

112 


THE GAME AND ANOTHER 


a verse of that most impressive of college songs, 
“Benny Havens”. The oldest generals in the stand 
had loved that song when they wore the cadet gray, 
and they stood up, too, until finally the whole south 
stand was on its feet. Across the field the Navy sym- 
pathizers listened silently. When the song was done 
the West Pointers marched away, defeated this time, 
but hopes high for “next year’s game”. 

In the Navy training quarters the right tackle of 
the winning team stood smiling down at a very soiled 
bow of pink ribbon which he held in his hand. 

“Things did go wrong for a minute or two,” he said, 
“but I’m sure that you helped me to pull myself out of 
it,” then he tucked the ribbon carefully into the inner 
pocket of his blouse. 

Mrs. Harold had engaged rooms at the Walton, 
having decided that the trip back to Annapolis after 
the excitement of the game was just a little more than 
she cared to undertake. Mrs. Waltham and her party 
left almost immediately after the game, bidding Kathe- 
rine good-bye at the field, and leaving her in Mrs. 
Harold’s care until one of the men whom Mrs. Harold 
had invited to dine with her and Constance at the hotel 
that evening could escort Katherine to the Pennsyl- 
vania station and see her safely upon her way for Ard- 
more, her home. But Katherine had no idea of de- 
parting for Ardmore, or any other Philadelphia su- 
burb that evening if a little finesse could insure her 
remaining in town, and when she learned that Mrs. 
Harold meant to remain in the city over night, and 


113 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

that Clint and Hill had been invited to dine with her 
and Constance, her own plans crystalized instanter! 

Mrs. Waltham’s party soon hurried off for the 
special train which would convey them back to Anna- 
polis, and Mrs. Harold, with Constance and Katherine, 
entered their taxi to run down to the Walton, where, 
by pre-arrangement, Clint and Emmet Hill would meet 
them. Clint, being on the team, would not return to 
Annapolis until the following morning anyway, and 
Hill, as secretary, was also at liberty to remain over 
and return with the team. 

As Mrs. Harold’s taxi ran out of the inclosure the 
girls leaned out to wave their banners at their friends, 
many answering cheers being flung back gaily at 
them. 

‘T never in my life expect to see anything like it 
again !” cried Constance, as she gave a little bounce of 
rapture. “I was never so excited in all my life. Do 
you think any other game could ever be so thrilling. 
Miss Bell.?” 

But Katherine had leaned back upon the cushions 
of the taxi and closed her eyes. 

“Why, what is it.? Are you ill.?” cried Mrs. Harold 
and Constance in a breath. 

“I — I shall feel better in a few minutes. It’s — it’s 
the excitement, I think. Just — just — let me rest a 
moment. My head feels so light and giddy.” 

“Let me stop the cab at the Aldine and get some- 
thing for you, Katherine,” urged Mrs. Harold, while 
Constance slipped her arm about her to support her 

lU 


THE GAME AND ANOTHER 


head. The hotel named was just a few blocks ahead 
of them. 

“No — no. Let us get to the Walton; then, if there 
is time before Mr. Hill comes, I can lie down in your 
room for a few moments. It is nothing but the excite- 
ment. I, — I, — am better already,” breathed Kathe- 
rine. 

“Of course there will be time. I can’t allow you to 
stir from the hotel in this state. I’ll ’phone out to 
your mother the moment we reach the Walton.” 

“I’m terribly sorry,” said Constance, removing 
Katherine’s hat that she might rest more comfortably 
against her shoulder. “There, keep perfectly quiet, 
and you will soon feel better.” 

A moment later the Walton was reached and Kathe- 
rine, with the assistance of a bell boy, was taken up to 
Mrs. Harold’s rooms and placed upon a couch. Res- 
toratives were procured and everything done for her 
well-being, Mrs. Harold going at once to the ’phone 
to call up Mrs. Bell in Ardmore. 

It was well she was too intent upon the conversation, 
and Constance too occupied with dropping aromatic 
spirits of ammonia into a glass, to be aware of the 
expression which crept into Katherine’s eyes as the 
conversation proceeded. 

Constance administered her dose and by the time 
Mrs. Harold had finished her conversation with Mrs. 
Bell and hung up the receiver the effect of those ten 
drops of ammonia was truly marvelous. 

“Now, little girl, you see it is all right,” said Mrs. 

115 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Harold cheerily as she bent over the invalid and laid 
her hand gently upon her forehead. “You heard my 
end of the pow-wow and could draw your inferences of 
the other: you are to remain right here with us to- 
night — your mother need not know a thing about your 
indisposition, for it would only needlessly alarm her, — 
and if you feel equal to it, you shall dine with us at 
seven.” 

“Oh, Mrs. Harold, I can’t impose upon your hospi- 
tality to that extent,” protested Katherine. 

“Do you see those twin beds in Constance’s room.? 
Well, young lady, you are to obey me and occupy one 
of those to-night. Now no protests. It is just six 
o’clock. Lie quiet for a half hour and then you’ll be 
right as a trivet.” 

“You’re a dear! A perfect dear” 

“Keep right on thinking so; it’s very flattering. 
And now get forty winks while Connie and I go into 
her room and freshen up a bit; I feel as though I’d 
been the center of a tornado and am sure I look it 
too. Come, Connie, leave Katherine for a little while. 
Fifteen minutes sleep will do more for her than all our 
fussing can,”^ laughed Mrs. Harold. 

^^Are you sure there is nothing more I can do for 
you,” asked Constance, lingering. 

“Not a thing, thank you, dear; you have been so 
sweet. As Mrs. Harold says, a few moments’ quiet will 
put me quite right,” was the reply. 

“Then we’U close the door and not make a sound or 
come near you till the clock strikes five bells,” smiled 
116 


THE GAME AND ANOTHER 


Constance, taking up her aunt’s and her own satchels 
and retiring to the adjoining room. 

That half-hour’s rest must have held wonderful 
restorative powers, for when Mrs. Harold and Con- 
stance returned Katherine had risen from the couch 
and was arranging her hair. A most elaborate coiffure 
it was, too. 

A half hour later they were greeting Clint and 
Emmet Hill in the reception-room, and in a few mo- 
ments all repaired to the dining-room. 

The hotel was crowded that night with respresenta- 
tives of every rank in the navy and the dining-room 
presented a brilliant scene. 

Mrs. Harold’s table was one of the merriest, for 
Clint and Hill were in hilarious moods, which proved 
infectious. 

Although Hill devoted himself to Katherine, her 
eyes were oftenest upon Clint, and no word of his con- 
versation with Constance was lost, nor did she miss 
the flush which stole upon the girl’s face as Clint bent 
toward her and spoke a few words which she could not 
overhear. 

It was at this moment that a man in civilian clothing, 
hat, cane and gloves in hand, made his way across the 
room toward their table and also took in the little 
tete a tete, and the expression which promptly over- 
spread his countenance was not that of delight. He 
was a tall man, broad-shouldered and well built, but 
carrying himself carelessly, as though quite indifferent 
to criticism. His face would have been a fine one had 


117 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


it not worn a half-bored, half-discontented expression. 
Half-grouchy would perhaps best describe it. Con- 
stance was sitting with her side toward him and was 
unaware of his approach, and Clint was too absorbed 
in his own words, which were: “It proved my talis- 
man, Constance, and saved the day. I shall keep it 
always,” to have a thought elsewhere. Hill was in a 
gale of laughter with Mrs. Harold and Katherine, 
but Katherine, who rarely missed anything, saw the 
man draw near, and was keenly alive to his next move, 
as well as to his striking resemblance to Clint. 

Drawing close to Constance’s chair he laid one hand 
familiarly upon her shoulder, saying with a very evi- 
dent air of proprietorship: 

“Hello, Con. I’ve found you at last, have I.? Had 
a deuce of a time too in this confounded jam.” 

Constance started as though the candles upon the 
table had suddenly turned into sky-rockets and shot up 
to the ceiling. 

“Why, Hart! Where in the world did you drop 
from?” she cried, while the others looked on with vary- 
ing expressions. 

“From New York to see this game. Came over this 
morning and spent most of the afternoon trying to 
ferret you out of that mob on Franklin Field, but it was 
no sort of use. Then I decided to round up the hotel 
registers, and this is the result.” 

Hart spoke rapidly, his eyes sizing up the party as 
he talked. Constance at once introduced him to her 
aunt and the others, Mrs. Harold promptly ordering 

118 


THE GAME AND ANOTHER 


another cover laid for this unexpected guest. He ac- 
cepted her invitation rather reluctantly, saying that 
he must take the nine o’clock train for New York, and 
adding: “I think I’ll play abductor and take Con- 
stance back to Montgentian with me. She has deserted 
us long enough, Mrs. Harold. She is needed back 
there.” 

‘‘Not half so badly as I need her,” smiled Mrs. 
Harold. “No, indeed, Mr. Murray, you can’t have my 
girl yet, I don’t doubt you all miss her, but you will 
have to learn how to get on without her for some time 
to come.” 

“We’ve only just begun to be friends down at Crab- 
town. Don’t try to spoil the good work,” was Clint’s 
protest, the others following it up with many more, 
which Hart received with rather poor grace, urging 
his own reasons why Constance should curtail her 
visit. Altogether, the last half of that dinner was a 
less delightful repast than the first had been, and it 
was with a sense of relief that Mrs. Harold rose from 
the table at eight-thirty, when Hart Murray was 
obliged to make his adieus and move toward the Penn- 
sylvania Station. All walked toward the hotel foyer 
with him, though in transit he contrived to separate 
Constance somewhat from the group. 

“Have you no word for me. Con?” he asked in a 
low voice, unheard, but not unseen by the others, for 
Clint had been a pretty close observer of all that had 
taken place during the past half-hour. “Seriously, 
119 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


won’t you come back for the holidays? Do you realize 
that in all the years we’ve known each other you’ve 
never spent a Christmas away from Montgentian?” 

“And isn’t that the best reason in the world why I 
should spend this one away from it? Then you’ll real- 
ize how truly ‘Santy Claus’ Partner’ I’ve always been,” 
answered Constance, laughing up at him. This was no 
place for Flart to turn sentimental. 

“That’s all very well, but I want you to be someone 
else’s partner and you know it aU right. It’s about 
time you quit this hurrah. Don’t you care even a 
little bit for old times? By George, I don’t believe 
you’re even a little bit glad to see me. I believe these 
brass buttons are turning your head. The men are no 
better than any other fellows.” 

“Do you think you are a fair judge of that? You 
only know the ‘other fellow’s’ type. Why, Hart, I’m 
having the time of my life! Maybe I am more or less 
crazy over it all, but just bear in mind that I’ve never 
in all my life found men to entertain me. Hitherto it 
has been the men who expected to he entertained. Just 
throw out a few hints when you get back : it will prove 
wholesome.” 

“Oh, confound ” but just here the door was 

reached and Mrs. Harold turned to bid him good-bye, 
she and her party being obliged to hurry away to a 
theatre where she had engaged a box. 

“I wonder if I was too flippant with Hart ?” thought 
Constance contritely as the tall figure turned away. 

120 


THE GAME AND ANOTHER 


“But this was no time to say such things and he ought 
to have realized it. The idea of a man trying to make 
love to a girl in a hotel foyer ! He must be crazy !” 

Several others in that party also had food for 
thought that evening. 


Chapter X 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 

December days rolled swiftly on and the season 
which passes for winter in sunny Maryland settled 
down upon Annapolis. With no football practice to 
watch in the yard, Middies’ Haven became more popu- 
lar than ever. It was good to look at, this room, “all 
red and warm,” as one of the men who loved it best 
described it, Mrs. Harold in her favorite chair, as 
many men as possible on the couch and the overflow on 
the floor around the big open fire-place, Constance at 
the tea-table as mistress of ceremonies. 

There is an epidemic which sweeps through the 
Academy annually, and symptoms were appearing 
among the upper classmen already. To quote a cer- 
tain well-known writer, it is best diagnosed as “court- 
ship, love and matter-o’-money,” the last stage of the 
disease the one which often proves the crucial turning 
point with many of the victims. 

In Clint’s case the first stage had developed clearly, 
the second many believed to be progressing rapidly, 
but Clint was rather a puzzle to most people and more 
or less a problem to himself ; a strange mixture of man 
and boy. He was the youngest of a large family and 
before coming to the Academy had been the “baby” in 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


his home. The four years had drawn most of this into 
the background, but there were still occasional flashes 
of the boy who had found most things coming his way 
without any effort on his part, or the necessity of de- 
cision. That he admired Mrs. Harold’s niece and en- 
joyed being with her, those who ran might read, but 
whether his admiration was based upon any deeper 
feeling “nor they, nor he, nor she could tell”. 

Perhaps Snap’s attitude toward her was causing 
more conjecture among others than the girl herself 
suspected or Snap cared. Snap the gay, the devil-may- 
care, the hitherto susceptible to the last degree, had 
sighed to many, he simply could not help it, and no one 
felt the least surprise when up to the time of the Army- 
Navy game he danced attendance upon Constance on 
every possible occasion. In his present “case,” how- 
ever, there was an attitude toward the girl which those 
who knew him best had never before seen. 

As to Constance’s feelings for him it would have 
puzzled even her to analyze them; she liked him, but 
she had not forgotten that glimpse of another side of 
his character. She also liked Clint and Hill and Fay, 
each in a different way. Perhaps had a decision been 
forced upon her then and there her regard would have 
swayed toward Clint, for he had many winning quali- 
ties, and in many ways reminded her of her old chum 
Hart, though far more agreeable than Hart. But in 
Snap there was an indefinable something which 
prompted a peculiar reserve in Constance. 

And thus stood matters when the Wednesday pre- 

123 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


ceding Christmas brought with it the usual three-thirty 
liberty and Constance was whisked away by Clint for 
a cross-country tramp. 

It was a sunny but crisp afternoon, and Mrs. Harold 
sat in her low chair before the open fire-place busily 
engaged in putting the finishing touches upon her own 
and Constance’s little gifts which would be hung upon 
a big tree in Mrs. Waltham’s drawing-room on 
Christmas. 

Sunlight flooded the warm sitting-room, the logs 
blazed lazily on the andirons ; on the tea-table the little 
brass kettle hummed its monotonous song of waiting 
welcome and good cheer. 

The house was strangely quiet. Mrs. Harold smiled 
happily as she sat working, her thoughts far afield with 
the girl whom she loved as a daughter. Presently a 
quick step was heard upon the stairs and along the 
corridor, and Snap stood in the doorway. Mechani- 
cally he placed his cap upon the hat-rack just outside 
the door and then stood with a hand resting upon 
either casing as he looked into the warm, inviting home- 
liness of the room, a strong, unspeakable yearning fill- 
ing his fine eyes. 

Mrs. Harold looked up, smiled a welcome and said 
as she said to half of the men who came to Middies’ 
Haven : 

“Welcome, son. How goes the world to-day?” and 
motioned Hunter toward a chair in front of the fire. 

He entered, took the hand she offered, clasped it 
warmly, then, most unusual of demonstrations, laid his 
IM 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


own upon her shoulder and bending over, pressed his 
lips to her forehead, saying: 

“I wish I could say all’s well. Little Mother,” color- 
ing slightly as he used the term. He never used it in 
the presence of others, and very rarely when alone with 
her. It meant a great deal when he did. 

She looked up quickly, a question in her eyes. 

‘‘Little Mother Confessor, I’ve made a darned fool 
of myself. Yes,” — as she started and glanced up at 
his serious face, — “I have, and you’d be the first to say 
so — although not in those words, perhaps — if you knew 
the whole truth, but perhaps I’ll make good yet. There 
are degrees and degrees of fools, as I’ve begun to dis- 
cover, but I’ve never until now quite comprehended the 
various ones. I’ve lost a heap of ground, — no — you 
can’t do a thing and I don’t want you to try — it must 
be all my own job. Only please don’t say I must not 
come here, never mind what the Rocking Chair Fleet 
reports, will you.?” 

“You know I shall never say that, dear.” 

“I know it — or at least I ought to ; you’ve given me 
enough proof. 

After lingering silently at her side a moment he 
crossed the room to the smoking-table, poured some 
tobacco into a cigarette paper, then returning to the 
fireside dropped into a chair, rolled and lighted his 
cigarette, tossed the match upon the blazing logs and 
sat watching it burn to a cinder. Mrs. Harold did 
not speak. She had learned to understand her boys 
pretty thoroughly and to respect their moods, which 
125 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


were as variable as an April day. Without seeming 
to do so, she watched him narrowly, feeling confident 
that something of more than usual moment was stirring 
in that busy brain. 

Since the Army-Navy game Snap had only seen 
Constance in the presence of others and no further 
allusion had been made to the episode of the pantry. 
She had chosen to ignore it completely and to hold 
Snap at a distance. It was simply intuition upon her 
part. She did not wholly trust him, consequently she 
raised a little barrier against any advance in their 
acquaintance. She could hardly have pursued a course 
more certain to attract a man of his temperament. 
Heretofore his advances had invariably been met half 
way; more than half way in many instances, and in 
some it had been almost pursuit. Snap had passed 
through a training-school which was hardly calculated 
to turn out a modest man, or one who stood in awe of 
the fair sex. 

But during the interval between the game and this 
sunny afternoon Constance had been with Clint a great 
deal. Mrs. Harold was a little puzzled, for at times 
the girl seemed rather unlike herself, although she had 
never said a word to her aunt. 

Presently Snap came back from the reverie into which 
he had lapsed and sitting up very straight said 
abruptly : 

“I hate this holiday season now! I believe I’m be- 
coming as emotional as a woman, for I don’t know 
whether to curse or ” 


126 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


‘‘Do you think the woman would resort to the former 
as a vent for her feelings, son? And the latter — 
sometimes think you men fight too hard against your 
emotions.” 

“And what would you call us if we didn’t?” de- 
manded Snap, rising from his chair to pace up and 
down the room several times, his hands jammed down 
into the most non-reg of pockets, his face set. 

“Laddie, that would depend entirely upon their 
cause. Every human heart reaches a limit of endur- 
ance when its sufferings must have an outlet? It takes 
many forms.” 

During the previous summer, while he was thousands 
of miles away on his practice cruise. Snap’s mother, 
his only surviving relative, had died very suddenly and 
under peculiarly painful circumstances. Although 
they had been separated for long intervals, the tie be- 
tween them was an exceptionally tender one, and the 
son’s love for the delicate little mother was the deepest 
sentiment of his life. He rarely spoke of her and few 
understood how keenly he felt his loss. She had spent 
the previous holiday season at Annapolis and none 
failed to notice his solicitude for her and her boundless 
pride in her stalwart son. His gentleness with her was 
the more marked because he so rarely showed it to 
others. Just once since his loss he had spoken of her 
to Mrs. Harold — only a few words, but they had re- 
vealed to her a very different Snap from the one the 
world in general knew. 

“Where is the little gir I mean where is Miss 


127 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Constance?” was Snap’s seemingly irrelevant question. 
‘‘Where are all the bunch this afternoon?” 

“The ‘bunch’ is over at Mrs. Waltham’s and Connie 
off tramping with Clint.” 

“Oh,” was the laconic comment. Then coming back 
to the fire-place he gave a sharp kick to a hassock, 
which sent it spinning against Mrs. Harold’s chair to 
rebound several inches. 

“I beg your pardon! What a bulldog I am! You’d 
better turn me out, for I’m not fit to have around 
to-day.” 

For answer Mrs. Harold stooped forward, drew the 
hassock a trifle to the left of her chair, but spoke not a 
word. Snap looked at her hard, then asked with an 
eager vibration in his deep voice: 

“May I? I was longing to but hardly dared ask the 
privilege. A year ago to-day I sat upon one at her 
side, and ” 

“I know it — never mind how I learned it — ” as a 
look of surprise came over his face — “but I did. Come, 
dear. I can never fill her place, I know, nor can you 
ever quite fill the ache upon which Fuji Yama’s shadow 
falls, but — ^we will do our best for each other, son.” 

Without replying, the man dropped upon the has- 
sock, let his folded arms fall upon the arm of her 
chair, .and buried his face in them. Mrs. Harold placed 
her arm across the broad shoulders which quivered in 
spite of his efforts to control them, while her other 
hand stroked back the thick, dark hair as it fell across 
128 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


the almost hidden forehead. Her own eyes were 
troublesome. 

A log blazed up, the flame flashing upon the gold 
stripes on the folded arms. On the mantle above the 
fire-place a little clock ticked the moments away. Sun- 
light and silence filled the cozy room. Not many min- 
utes passed, but the time seemed longer. When Snap 
raised his head and looked straight into Mrs. Harold’s 
eyes his own were suffused. 

“Will you forgive me for this? I don’t often act 
like — like — ^but it has done me good.” 

With a smile which warmed his inmost heart she 
laid one finger upon his lips. Instantly her hand was 
imprisoned in his strong clasp and his lips pressed to 
it with a vehemence which startled her as he said: 

“Little Mother, you have come very close to your 
‘son’ to-day. Let him come even closer. I couldn’t 
run with the bunch this afternoon. I’m fond of the men 
but — ^but — somehow I can’t always make them feel it, 
and a good many times I don’t care a damn whether I 
do or not !” He paused, quite unaware of his slip .and 
his hearer gave no sign. Then he continued: “I’ve 
been in a queer frame of mind lately — ^perhaps I’m 
growing up — eh?” as a whimsical light filled the eyes 
raised to hers, “though I’ve an idea I’ve been grown 
up ever since I was born; I can’t remember the time 
when I haven’t felt so, and — well, I’ve knocked around 
the world more than most men of my age, though I’m 
younger in years than those I think most of.” 

U9 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


“Yes,” interrupted Mrs. Harold, “you wiU be 
twenty-three on July nineteenth.” 

“How do you know.?” was the quick question. 

“There is very little I don’t know about my boys,” 
was the quiet reply. 

“That’s straight, and I often wonder how you savvy 
it all.” 

“Perhaps it is ‘the little bird who tells’,” laughed 
Mrs. Harold softly. 

“Well, you do know, and sometimes it feels good to 
find it out — to know that there is someone who cares 
enough to. Still you don’t know much about me — the 
real me, I mean,” and into his voice crept a note which 
indicated that he half hoped she knew far more than he 
suspected. 

“More than you believe, son.” 

“Enough to make you stick to that name through 
thick and thin? Suppose some day I asked you for 
something you value more than anything else in the 
world. Would you give it to me? Would you?” 

He laid his hand upon her’s unconscious of the power 
of his grip. She was forced to exert all her self-con- 
trol to conceal the pain it caused. 

“I have nothing so precious within my power to give 
away, dear,” she answered very gently, though her face 
had grown a shade paler at the question. 

“No, not to give, perhaps, but your aye or nay 
would carry a good deal of weight. Which would it 
be?” The tone was both appealing and defiant. 

130 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


Mrs. Harold took the face in both her hands, looked 
earnestly into the wonderful eyes and asked: 

“Are you asking seriously, son? I cannot pretend 
to misunderstand your meaning, but remember the 
question is the most sacred one a man’s lips can form. 
Nor does it rest with me to answer it, dear, but you 
must not breathe it to the one who can until you are 
absolutely sure what you wish the answer to be. Don’t 
forget the old fable of the boys and the frogs.” 

“I know what you mean ; there have been so many — 
yes, in a way, it’s true, there have been — dozens of 
them — and one in particular of whom you don’t ap- 
prove. But Constance — she’s — different. What would 
you say if I broke away from that other fool infatua- 
tion and won out against a better man? for I believe 
him to be a better man than I, but — heavens — what it 
would mean to me ! Thus far in my life I haven’t had 
much reason to either believe or trust, and that I dare 
S3.y you suspect too, but I’d trust her with my very 
soul. She’s made of different stuff. . What would you 
say.?” 

“I would say, dear, prove to her and all the world 
your worthiness, then make your test and leave the 
outcoifie in God’s hands,” said Mrs. Harold. 

For a moment Snap’s head was bowed upon her 
hands, then looking straight into the kind eyes he said 
in a voice quivering with deep emotion: 

“Little Mother, please God, I will. Keep my secret — 
forgive me, I know you will without my asking it — and 
the outcome shaUibe .^^^ and she will. There is uo 
13L 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


one else on earth to whom I’d make this confession, but 
that girl has taught me to think. I had one lesson 
taught me not two evenings since.” 

‘‘And that was?” interrogated Mrs. Harold. 

“A bunch of us were walking in the yard with her 
when colors sounded. To see that girl stop, face and 
stand at attention as the old flag dropped was worth 
while. The others kept on talking and doing their 
best to run us men and make us talk too. But not she ! 
not on your life ! Her face flushed at the running but 
she never moved or spoke. When the last note had 
sounded and we had saluted I asked: 

“ ‘Why did you do it?’ 

“‘Why? Because I couldn’t help it. Could you? 
You are giving your life to the Service. Could you 
honor it if we failed it? We can’t be soldiers or naval 
officers, but we can be women of whom our country 
may be proud!’ 

“George, I wish you could have heard it! And she 
didn’t know what a home thrust she’d given, either. 
She was not posing or preaching, either, but just say- 
ing exactly what she felt. We all realized it; even the 
other girls, and for once in their lives they thought, I 
guess. She is so entirely unconscious of all she stands 
for to us men. Therein lies her power. That girl’s 
mother must have sound sense. Tell me something 
of her and her home life, please. I’m half a savage, 
I believe. I’ve spent four years here, but until you 
gave me a glimpse of home and all it means, I’ve 
never known the meaning of the word. Do you 
132 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


know that I haven’t a near relative on earth? Father 
died when I was a mere kid, and Marie, my sister, only 
a short time after. Since I was twelve I’ve knocked 
around boarding and prep schools, and here I am, 
and — what am I?” he ended, with a toss of his hands 
and shrug of his shoulder. 

Mrs. Harold laid her hand gently upon the broad 
shoulder, staying the impatient shrug. 

‘‘You are my foster-son, in whom my faith is bound- 
less, and of whom I have every reason to be proud. 
Remember, ‘success lies not in never failing, but in 
rising every time we fail’.” 

With a nod and closing of the lips Snap settled down 
in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head and 
closed his eyes to listen. 

Mrs. Harold talked on in a soft monotone, giving 
glimpses of the home life of the girl. Vivid little pic- 
tures they were with some of the touches she possessed 
the peculiar power of giving. 

Of Constance’s devotion to those she loved best, her 
courage, and the responsibility she had instantly as- 
sumed upon her father’s death. Of her beautiful inter- 
course with her mother. Of her companionship since 
early childhood with Hart Murray, and his attitude 
toward her, which her family had unconsciously grown 
to regard as more or less a matter of course. 

“And I do not approve of it at all. Constance must 
see more of life and the world before she makes a de- 
cision which will influence her whole life. I have felt 
this for some time. Hart is a good enough fellow, but 
133 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


he is taking entirely too much for granted, and that’s 
not a good beginning for any man. Constance de- 
serves more than I believe him capable of ever giving 
her. Her’s is the stronger character by far. My 

sister, however, is very fond of him. So ” and 

Mrs. Harold paused. 

‘‘And the little girl?” asked Snap from behind the 
hands which were clasped across his eyes as he rested 
his head against the back of the chair. 

“Only time can answer that question. I must not 
try to,” replied Mrs. Harold. 

Snap rose from his chair and stood beside -her. 

“I shall not forget this. You’ve shown me a new 
world, and I wish now as I’ve never wished before that 
I’d never known any other. God, what a fool a woman 
can make of a man if he will let her. Thank you for 
this hour,” and he held out his hand. 

For a moment Mrs. Harold held the firm, strong 
hand in both her slender ones. Then drawing it to- 
ward her laid her face against it. In an instant Snap 
had dropped upon one knee in order to bring his eyes 
upon a level with her’s. 

“Little Mother, there is a question in your eyes; 
there has been ever since the Thanksgiving hop. Ask 
it, please.” 

“Son, have I any right to do so? I sometimes think 
I arrogate too much to myself with my boys; expect 
too much, yet so much has been so voluntarily offered; 
especially in your case, dear.” 

“Do you realize that in all this world there is only 

lU 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


one person whom I would trust as I trust you? I 
have no one else on God’s earth, as you know, and you 
also know my nature. Now the question?” 

Mrs. Harold turned and glanced out of the window. 
From it a faint spiral of smoke could be seen rising 
from the chimney of a pretty cottage not far from 
Wilmot Hall. Snap’s eyes followed her glance, then 
came back to hers. 

‘‘I know your suspicions,” he said. “Yes, I have 
been all kinds of a fool there, in common with a good 
many others; and — well — others think I’ve been worse 
than a fool. As it is, I’ve done enough harm, and she^s 
made enough trouble, and will make more if she has 
half a chance. But, — I can look straight into your 
eyes and say it has stopped with the folly, but such 
women can make life hell for a man and never suspect 
how hot they’ve made it, do you know that?” 

Mrs. Harold bowed her head in assent, and held 
fast to his hand which had grown icy cold. “Only too 
well, dear,” she said softly. 

^^Then we need such as you,” he said. “And only 
God and His angels know what it means to the man 
who finds those like you — in time. I’d give half my life 
to have known you when I first entered this Academy, 
but — don’t worry about that over yonder. I’ve been 
an ass and it’s a wonder my ears haven’t grown a yard 
long, but — the little girl came just when they were 
growing fastest, and I’ve cut it all out so far as my 
part is concerned. Good-bye, and thank you for this 
hour. I’ll never forget it — never! And now I think 
135 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


I’ll go for a hike to pull myself into shape. I need it, 
I guess,” and rising to his feet he bowed low over her 
hand, pressing his lips to it in the courtly manner which 
often gave a glimpse of his descent from the French 
cavaliers. Then turning, he strode quickly from the 
room. 

Mrs. Harold rested her head upon her hand and 
gazed with unseeing eyes into the fire-place, her heart 
filled with strangely tender thoughts for the man who 
had just left her, then murmured softly: 

“Little girl, little girl, have I brought you down here 
for your happiness.^ Can he fill your future as I wish 
it filled, or would another be more sure to do so? You 
deserve so much — sweetheart — so much, for none will 
ever guess the love and devotion you’ve given to those 
dearest to you !” 

Several men were entering Wilmot Hall as Snap 
strode from it. He did not even see them nor hear 
their hail. 

“Hunter’s got a grouch on. What’s up, I wonder,” 
was Billy Crosby’s comment. 

But Snap strode on up King George Street past 
College Avenue, over the bridge and past the marine 
barracks, busy with his thoughts. A moment later he 
was brought back to the object of them with a ven- 
geance. 

It was close upon two bells as Snap turned down the 
hill leading to the Severn bridge. He had barely taken 
twenty steps when he came to an abrupt standstill in a 
little clump of fir trees. The picture he looked upon 
136 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


was not exactly in harmony with his thoughts. Con- 
stance and Clint had just left the bridge and were 
swinging along the path at the roadside at a brisk 
pace, laughing and talking gaily, their voices carrying 
far on the crisp, wintry air. The girl’s hands were 
filled with branches of holly and mistletoe. 

As she raised her head to answer something Clint 
was saying she made a mis-step and plunged forward. 
In an instant he had caught and steadied her, asking 
quickly, “Are you hurt.^’ Did you turn your ankle.?”' 

She laughed as she asked, “Wasn’t that the very 
limit of clumsiness.? I think it is a pebble in my tie, 
for something made me flinch. Steady me just a mo- 
ment while I look, please.’^ 

“No, take hold of this tree and I’ll see,” said Clint, 
bfending down to remove her tie. As he did so a gust of 
wind caught his cap and whirled it over the hedge, 
where it went spinning off toward the river not fifty 
yards away. 

“Quick! Your cap! It will be in the water before 
you can catch it! Give me the tie!” cried Constance. 
Without a second thought Clint handed her the tie and 
bounded over the hedge after his runaway headgear. 

Constance shook out the little pebble which had 
caused all the mischief and then turned to replace the 
tie, — said tie refusing absolutely to be replaced with- 
out the aid of her shoe-horn. 

“Oh, good gracious, you vexation to the spirit !” she 
anathematized the cause of her tribulations. “What 
does make everything go so criss-cross sometimes.?” 
137 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Meanwhile Clint had recovered his cap and returned, 
but to bound back to her side of the hedge, at the 
point where he had so easily bounded over was im- 
possible, for the ground sloped away too precipitately. 

“Here’s a go,” he laughed, peering over the top of 
the prickly holly, “can you walk on a little? The 
ground is level up there and I can get over.” 

“I can hop on,” answered Constance, breaking into 
a peal of laughter at the absurdity of the situation. 
“I can’t get my tie on without help, I am afraid.” 

“And have you been standing there on your bare 
foot all this time? You’ll catch cold, sure.” 

“I may catch mortification of the spirits, but noth- 
ing worse, and a stocking is some protection, you 
know,” she answered merrily, as she hopped along her 
side of the hedge and Clint hurried to the point where 
he could get over to her. 

A laugh and words carry a long distance on a clear 
winter’s day. Both were distinctly audible to Snap, 
who stood watching the figures below him. 

Constance stood upon one foot, steadying herself 
by holding fast to a sapling. Her left foot was upon 
Clint’s knee as he knelt to tie the shoestring. All this 
Snap could see distinctly, even to the merry expression 
upon the girl’s face, although the firs concealed him 
from their view. 

The blood surged to his temples as he muttered 
impatiently : 

“Oh, get on, man! Don’t be a damn fool! He’s 
only tying her shoestring. How many have you tied, 
138 


AS THE LOGS BLAZED 


yourself?” and he laughed, but the laugh was not 
mirthful. The next step was never taken, for at 
that moment Clint raised his head, looked into the 
girl’s face with a look which Snap could only surmise, 
since his friend’s back was toward him, then raising 
his cap reverently, bent over the little foot and pressed 
his lips to the bow he had just tied. Snap drew a 
quick, deep breath as he saw the blood surge into the 
girl’s face, and turning sharply crashed through the 
underbrush back toward Bancroft, his thoughts in a 
turmoil. 


139 


Chapter XI 


COJVIPLICATIONS 

Fifteen minutes later Constance and Clint hurried 
up the stairs, the girl calling in a cheery voice as she 
ran down the corridor: 

“Who’s here?” 

“Why, Aunt Janet, are you falling into your dotage 
that you are sitting here before your fire talking to 
yourself?” she laughed as she bent down to kiss her 
aunt, a little caress she never omitted no matter how 
many were present. 

“Did you hear her, Mr. Wayne? What shall we 
do to rouse her? It is really alarming,” she ended, 
turning toward the man whose eyes had hardly for a 
moment been withdrawn from the bonny, radiant face 
and starry eyes before him. 

“I hear some of the bunch piling up-stairs. If they 
don’t rouse her the case is hopeless,” he answered, 
helping Constance remove the thick sweater and heavy 
gloves in which the cross-country tramp of five miles 
had been made. There was no hat to remove, for she 
seldom burdened herself with one on such occasions 
even in midwinter. 

Barely had the garments been laid aside when six 

140 


COMPLICATIONS 


or seven midshipmen came into the room, breathless 
and jolly from midshipmen’s chronic state of hurry. 

‘‘Quick, ‘Polly put the kettle on’,” cried Mrs. 
Harold, as thoroughly “roused” as Clint had pre- 
dicted, and the next moment Constance was at the tea- 
table, as pretty a picture as any man could wish to 
look upon, and which several men did choose to look 
upon with very appreciative eyes, as they sat perched 
upon their favorite seats. 

“I say, we have never given Miss Constance the 
pleasure of ‘Forty-nine Bottles’, and the Little Mother 
hasn’t had ’em in an age,” cried Hill. “Strike up, 
men !” 

“Forty-nine Bottles!” exclaimed Constance in dis- 
may. “Why ” 

But before her question could be answered the room 
was ringing as the mad song was rolled out by the 
masculine voices of more than local fame, for two of 
the men were members of the Glee Club and many 
would have gone far to hear them. As the song waxed 
louder and madder Mrs. Harold flew to close her door 
lest the proprietor of the hotel come up to her room 
to investigate the cause of such an uproar. 

From one song to another they went, some of the 
voices now and again growing curiously thick from 
surreptitious bites of cake, for when are midshipmen 
not hollow straight down to their very feet? 

In the midst of the hilarity Katherine Bell came in 
with Morris. Clint, who had been prowling about the 
room and raiding “the commissary,” as they called 
141 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Mrs. Harold’s cupboard where “eats” were kept, now 
reappeared with three little paper bags which he tossed 
into Constance’s lap with the words: 

“You win.” 

“What does she win!” 

“The bet.” 

“What did you two bet.?” asked Katherine, all curi- 
osity. 

“I bet I’d get out of taking Dreihauser-Baum to a 
hop. About six feet tall and weighs 180 if she weighs 
an ounce. Oh, for a slender, slender form!” deplored 
Clint. 

“How’d you get stuck.?” asked Hill. “Thought 
everybody was on.” 

“Ask Constance.” 

Hill smiled at the use of the Christian name. Clint 
was progressing. 

“I told him I would bet him three bags of wild 
cherry candy he wouldn’t have the bad grace to make 
an excuse if her brother asked him to take her to a 
hop,” laughed Constance. 

“That’s what comes of being too good natured,” 
commented Hill. “Catch me getting into such a beastly 
fix again. I got stuck youngster year. Might as well 
have lugged old Tecumseh around for a couple of 
hours, or one of her father’s beer kegs. Ugh!” 

“Then why in thunder didn’t you put me wise, you 
confounded chump!” was Clint’s indignant protest. 

“Didn’t know he was on your trail.” 

^‘Well, I’ll bet smother three bags of wild cherry 

m 


COMPLICATIONS 


candy that you*ll be let in for the same thing again 
before the winter is over,” cried Katherine to Hill. 

“And ril bet you won't bet wild cherry candy,” 
broke in Clint, “for there isn’t another bag to be had in 
all Crabtown. I bought the last. Been a run on the 
supply to settle bets.” 

“Honest.?” 

“Sure thing.” 

“Then let’s get busy while the cherry blooms,” said 
Hill, making a long arm to reach one of the bags in 
Constance’s lap. The candies which had been in such 
demand during the winter and which in any other spot 
on earth than Crabtown would have been scorned and 
repudiated, were passed around. 

“Bet I can throw one of these straight into Clint’s 
mouth. Good as target practice,” ventured Hill from 
his snug corner. 

“Bet you couldn’t do it once out of five tries,” re- 
torted Clint. 

“Will you give me a show.?” cried Hill, sitting up 
and instantly alert. 

“You’ll knock out a tooth if you try,” was Morris’s 
half interested comment. 

“Fire away!” ordered Clint, opening his mouth as 
wide as he could stretch it, the others convulsed at the 
absurd spectacle. 

Hill took careful aim. The candy flew wide the 
mark and fell upon the rug. 

“Ah!” jeered Katherine. 

Number two struck with some force upon Clint’s 

143 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


cheek. Number three hit his lips. Number four struck 
a tooth and rebounded. By this time Clint’s certainty 
of Hill’s failure was assured, and just as number five 
was hurled he was about to add his jeers to Kathe- 
rine’s when he learned that the exception does prove 
the rule in the case of the candy as well as “the cup 
and the lip,” for number five went true to the mark — 
and far beyond it. There was a wild gasp, a choke 
and a strangle. Constance flew to pound the luckless 
man on the back, as the other men howled in diabolical 
glee. 

“Are — are — you dead.?” she demanded between 
laughter and thumps. 

“No-o-o! no-o-o!” gasped the victim of that too cor- 
rect aim. “I’m, I’m, all — all right, I — I think, but — 
but, I — didn’t get a hit of good of it!” 

“Oh, let him die! He deserves it,” was HiU’s dis- 
gusted exclamation. 

“Is Miss Bell here.?” asked a bellboy who at that 
moment appeared in the doorway. “Parcel for you. 
Miss.” 

“For me. Why, how funny to send it here instead 
of over to Mrs. Waltham’s,” said Katherine, taking the 
box. 

“He done took it there first. Miss Bell, but Mrs. 
Waltham made him bring it ’roun’ hyer,” he say. 

“Now, Mr. Clinton Wayne,” said Katherine tri- 
umphantly, “we’ll have some decent candy. Let me 
see who has been so dear as to send it. It’s just days 
and days since anyone has been thoughtful enough to 
144 


COMPLICATIONS 


send me any! Why, it’s from Billy Crosby! Now I 
call that perfectly darling of him, the sweet thing. 
Huyler’s, too. Doesn’t your mouth water, Mr. Hill.^” 

“Not yet. I’ll see the contents first. Big box, but 
not very weighty, is it?” 

“Sour grapes! If you wanted all those nice things 
said about you, why didn’t you send me a box your- 
self?” bustled Katherine, undoing the strings and 
wrapping, of which there seemed to be no end. “Well, 
I thought all Huyler’s packers knew how to tie ribbon 
bows at least,” she commented. “Of all the awkward 
granny-knots. There ! I’ve got it unfastened at last.” 

Off came the cover, the tinfoil was turned back, the 
lace paper lifted to disclose — two sticks of peppermint 
candy, about two quarts of peanut shells and — to give 
weight in more than one sense — about four pounds of 
pebbles from Lover’s Lane. If Billy had planned a 
climax he could hardly have wrought better, although 
he would have been wise to weigh the outcome of a 
practical joke played upon Katherine Bell. She did 
not accept the situation kindly, to say the least, and a 
little later she recalled a pressing engagement and in- 
sisted upon Morris escorting her. 

“Oh, do stop laughing, you unfeeling men!” ex- 
claimed Constance, in defence of her departed guest. 
“I think it was horrid to make her feel more humiliated 
by hooting as you did. I hate practical jokes anyway. 
If they afford you such wild glee, I wonder you haven’t 
played dozens on me since I’ve been here; certainly I 
145 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


was green enough when I came and am none too wise 
now. I’d be an easy mark.” 

“None will be played on you, Constance,” said Clint 
quickly. 

“Katherine ought to be joke-proof by this time,” 
remarked Hill. “She invites so many.” 

The following Friday afternoon a gay party worked 
busily at Mrs. Waltham’s setting up the big Christmas 
tree and decorating the whole house with the greens 
gathered the previous afternoon. It was a beautiful 
picture and typical of the season, but a minor ran 
through the carol, for three who were to have been 
present were absent and one who was there did not hesi- 
tate to add a deeper and more discordant note. The 
night before some strange happenings had taken place 
beneath that roof of which the genial hostess knew 
nothing, though two of her guests might have enlight- 
ened her had they felt so disposed, and although all 
had liberty this afternoon, neither Ned nor Billy had 
put in an appearance. Mrs. Waltham could not under- 
stand why, for she had charged Billy to be on hand to 
help with her decorating. 

“Where can that boy be?” she cried in vexation, 
handing to Fay a big branch of mistletoe. “Fasten it 
to the chandelier, please, and then all you girls watch 
out. Remember now, I’ve warned you,” she laughed 
as she hurried into the next room. 

Katherine shrugged her shoulders and walked delib- 
erately beneath it. Hill stood not far off. 

146 


COMPLICATIONS 


“Embrace your opportunity, man,” said Fay from 
his perch upon the stepladder. 

*^You are too near,” retorted Hill. “I know when to 
lie low.” 

“Just wait there till I finish this job. Miss Bell,” 
called Fay from up aloft. 

“I know how to time it,” scoffed Katherine, turning 
to take a plate of cakes which the butler had just 
brought into the room. 

Carrying it into the library where a little tea-table 
was laid, she called to Constance: 

“Quick, Miss Plowland, come here and help me with 
this dish of cakes. They are bound to spill off the 
plate. Who in the world piled it so full anyway.? 
There ! I knew they’d go before you could stop them,” 
was the petulant exclamation, as the pile of little cakes 
slithered like an avalanche to the fioor, Katherine mak- 
ing wild snatches to save them. 

“Oh, good gracious !” cried Constance, hurrying to 
her aid. “What a shame for so many to be wasted.” 

“Wasted, nothing! Scramble them up and put them 
back quick, the men are all too busy in the other room 
to notice, and they’ll never know the difference any- 
way. A little dirt won’t hurt them ; they’ll all come to 
it eventually; pity a few hadn’t before now. By-the- 
way, have you heard of the last noble act of your de- 
voted Clint.?” 

demanded Constance with some spirit. 

“Oh, you needn’t do the injured hummingbird act. 
He’s been acting like a perfect cad, I tell you, though 
147 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


I dare say you know more about it than I do. Re- 
ported Ned and Billy for trenching last night. — I 
wonder if he is above such things himself? — and has 
raised a fine fuss. I’ve my opinion of a man who will 
report his own classmate and also a relative of the 
woman who has made this house a second home for 
him — ever since he has been in the Academy. Ugh, I 
loathe him!” 

‘‘Why, it would be clearly his duty to report a man 
absent from his own company, wouldn’t it?” asked 
Constance. “Does Mrs. Waltham know anything, 
about it?” 

“How should I know?” demanded Katherine, giving 
her a withering glance and adding: 

“Duty! duty! Well, from my standpoint there are 
duties and duties, but perhaps your puritanical one is 
not the same. Thank heaven, I was born south of the 
Hub of the Universe.” 

“So was I,” replied Constance quietly, as she laid 
the cakes upon the table instead of on the plate as 
Katherine had ordered. 

“Put them Jiere'^ commanded Katherine sharply, in- 
dicating the plate. 

With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Constance 
turned away, saying as she did so: 

“The puritanical conscience, you know,” and went 
into the next room, troubled and puzzled, but resolved 
to learn more of the matter, though she had no oppor- 
tunity to do so then as the men were just leaving. 

Hill was taking Constance to the hop that night, and 

148 


COMPLICATIONS 


as a matter of course had exchanged the fourth and 
fifth dances with Clint. Upon the plea of being tired, 
Constance asked him to sit out the fifth and then de- 
manded to know what had become of Ned and Billy, 
for neither had put in an appearance. 

“Give me an easier one, please,” laughed Clint 
evasively. 

“Can’t you answer it.?” 

“Partly. They got into a little scrape last night 
and are not allowed abroad in the land,” and Clint 
laughed as though to dismiss the subject. 

“It must be more than a little one, for if they hit the 
grade their restriction wouldn’t begin until next month, 
would it.? And where are they to-night.?” 

“Well, no,” admitted Clint reluctantly. 

“Then there is something else back of it all. I’ve 
learned enough of demerits since I’ve been down here 
to understand the how and why of things. They are 
both in your company, aren’t they.? Were you drawn 
into the mix-up.?” 

“Here comes Snap for his dance. Never mind the 
mix-up; run along and enjoy yourself,” answered 
Clint. 

Snap caught the words and glanced quickly from one 
to the other. What mix-up did Clint mean.? 

“Very well, if you won’t tell maybe someone else 
will, and you both ought to know that I’m not playing 
Pauline Pry from idle curiosity.” 

“We do, but — oh, well, least said the better per- 
haps.” 


149 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘Thank you for the hint, Mr. Wayne. I’ll try to 
mind my own business, sir,” and a little defiant nod 
was given to the man just turning away. 

He paused, his expression changing as he said: 

“Have I offended? I beg your pardon if I have, 
but — I’m tongue-tied. Please try to understand.” 

“On your own account, I dare say.” 

“Miss Constance!” 

“Come, Mr. Hunter, we’re missing this dance. Good- 
bye, Sir Silent Tongue,” and she swung away upon 
Snap’s arm. When the dance ended she said: 

“Mr. Hunter, will you answer the question which 
Mr. Wayne would not?” 

“If you’ll sit out this next dance with me,” answered 
Snap. 

Constance hesitated. He noticed her hesitation and 
the blood surged to his cheeks. 

“As it was Billy’s and he does not seem to be in evi- 
dence to-night I will,” said Constance, relenting. 

He led her to the end of the Armory. 

“Now, what is it?” Snap’s face was rather serious 
and his voice lacked its usual ring as he placed a chair 
for her. Constance glanced at him quickly. 

“Are you in the ‘mix-up’ too?” 

“Which one?” was the quizzical reply. 

“Isn’t one enough? I hope there aren’t any more. 
But I know something is amiss. Mrs. Waltham seems 
troubled to-night and Mr. Wayne isn’t a bit like him- 
self. Miss Bell and Miss Ashton are — oh, dear! I 
150 


COMPLICATIONS 

don’t know what is wrong, but something is,” she ended 
petulantly. 

A quick look of relief passed over Snap’s face. After 
all, that little scene of Wednesday afternoon was not 
at the bottom of these questions. She had not seen him 
in the fir trees. 

“You are worrying needlessly. Miss Howland. It is 
only a little stir-up in quarters. We’ve had such before 
and will have them again, no doubt.” 

“It’s Billy and Ned, isn’t it.?* Are both in Mr. 
Wayne’s company?” 

“No, only Billy. Ned is in the Eighth, Burlington’s, 
and that makes it a little harder for Clint. He’s 
anxious to win the colors this year and Burlington is 
too, and is giving Clint a run for them. Clint is trying 
to work his men up in every way and when one of them 
hits the booze ” Snap stopped short, but Con- 

stance had caught the slip. 

“So that is the trouble, is it? Ah! Now tell me the 
whole story straight.” 

“I won’t ask you to keep it close for I know you 
will, but I wish I hadn’t made that break. Ned is in 
Burlington’s company and — well — you know some- 
thing of Ned by this time?” 

Constance nodded. Snap continued: 

“He has kept pretty straight this year, and let 
Billy alone, but last night they broke loose for fair. 
At least Ned did, and Billy, like a darned fool, let him 
lead him into it. The 0. C. got wise and had the whole 
151 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


brigade inspected, and pretty soon there was the deril 
to pay — I beg your pardon ” 

‘^Go on,” urged Constance, with a quick little waving 
aside of the break: 

“Of course Clint had to report the whole business. 
Burlington was sent for and the outcome is a general 
mess. I’m desperately sorry for Clint, for there isn’t 
a man in the brigade I think more of. He has done his 
best to keep Billy straight for Mrs. Waltham’s sake, 
and he’s worked hard with his company. If it had 
been any other man than Burlington to run up against. 
Ned and Billy are both under arrest in their rooms.” 

“What !” exclaimed Constance. 

Snap nodded. Constance was silent for a moment, 
then asked seriously: 

“Under the circumstances, could Mr. Wayne in 
honor have done otherwise than report Billy?” 

Snap’s answer was conclusive. 

“He could not. Whatever the outcome, at any cost 
to personal feeling, he was duty bound to report the 
man found absent when he inspected.” 

“I thought so, but I am terribly sorry,” Constance 
said, with a quick little upraising of the head which 
boded ill for anyone criticising Clint adversely. 

“And you’ll stick to him, no matter what you hear?” 
asked Snap. The girl never knew how hard it was for 
him to ask her that simple question. 

“I never desert a friend, and Mr. Wayne has been 
one from the moment I met him. I like him and I am 
15g 


COMPLICATIONS 


terribly sorry for this. Sorry, too, that I did not 
know of it before. Will you tell him so.?” 

As the words were spoken. Hill came to claim her 
for one of his dances and she saw neither Snap or Clint 
again during that evening. Indeed, Clint had left the 
Armory and gone back to his room, more cut up over 
the little episode with Constance than by the lively 
fracas which Billy’s and Ned’s outbreak was causing 
him, for both the culprits were under arrest in their 
rooms, and neither Christmas Eve nor Christmas Day 
saw them abroad in the land. 


153 


Chapter XII 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 

In the winter of 19 — services were still held in the 
old Armory, since reduced to a pile of bricks. The 
new chapel would not be completed before spring. 

At ten-thirty upon the Sunday following Christmas 
Day Mrs. Harold and Constance started for the old 
building, a strange contrast to the newer ones recently 
erected all about it. Its days already numbered, and 
showing on every hand the scars of many years, it 
stood with tottering dignity, like a service-worn vet- 
eran, awaiting the last sounding of taps. Many a 
crack showed in its outer walls, those upon the inner 
side being concealed by flags, each telling its thrilling 
story, with Old Glory holding the place of honor back 
of the pulpit and silently proclaiming to those assembled 
before it, “For God and our Country”. 

As they took their seats upon the old-fashion 
benches, benches in striking contrast to the upholstered 
pews of the fashionable churches in the great cities not 
many miles away, the organ sent forth the first notes 
of the processional, and sharp orders at the north and 
south doors announced the approach of the brigade. 

Two battalions of six companies each, led by their 

154 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 


commanders, marched to their seats, where the un- 
buckling of the “stripers” swords, the removal of over- 
coats and caps created a stir and clanking in sharp 
contrast to the silence usually pervading the places of 
worship Constance had hitherto attended. When all 
were finally settled the gray-haired chaplain in his 
clerical robes came from the little room serving as a 
vestry. Instantly the brigade stood at attention and 
the congregation rose. 

It is a simple but most impressive ritual, and must 
carry a deep meaning to those who hear it. Eight 
hundred uniformed men under perfect discipline, sworn 
to their country’s service, many of them still mere 
boys with men’s responsibilities resting upon their 
shoulders, facing the chaplain who has given years to 
this labor of love as well as loyalty, for none who has 
listened to him can doubt that both heart and soul are 
in his work. Hearts must thrill in the breasts of those 
who look upon these men or pause a moment to think 
of the future and all it may hold for them. 

Boys now, hearing, though unconsciously, “First 
Call” to their duty to God and their country. Sac- 
rifice and self-denial must be as a matter of course. 
Self-control the keynote of their lives. Weeks, months 
and years of daily routine, often monotonous, often 
irksome, to equip them to meet some crisis perhaps as 
vital as the lamentable one of 1861 or the unforeseen 
one of Manila Bay. Learning self-discipline in order 
to discipline others if the need should arise. Their 
very strength, co-ordination and co-operation stand- 
155 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


ing as a Noli me tangere to the world. These eight 
hundred men, virile, strong of body, and glowing with 
health, youth and surging vigor, stand for something 
big and fine. 

From the first anthem to the final hymn, 

‘‘Eternal Father ! strong to save. 

Whose arm has bound the restless wave, 

Who bid’st the mighty ocean deep 
Its own appointed limits keep; 

Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee 
For those in peril on the sea!” 

sung as all are kneeling after the benediction, the 
service is one to rouse deeper thoughts in the thought- 
ful and restrain the heedless. 

As it had marched in, so the brigade marched out 
in perfect order, but once beyond the doors of the 
sanctuary orders were given to break ranks and fall 
out, and they fell. Were not dozens of girls who were 
down to Annapolis for this holiday season pouring out 
of the chapel eager to greet and be greeted by their 
special knights of the brass buttons? Were not these 
knights already lined up six deep in front of the old 
building, eyes fixed eagerly upon the small door to 
single out the particular pair of eyes which would 
light up at sight of him? 

Battered, tottering, hors de combat, the old Armory 
seemed to smile to itself as it stood there in the warm 
glow of that glorious December noon. It had looked 
upon many stirring scenes in earlier days, witnessed 

156 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 


many heartaches, many heartbreaks, helped to solace 
many; now, in “its sunset of life,” it held its glow of 
romance for the upspringing life around it, its tender 
memories for those who had reached the crest of the 
hill, and a gentle peace for those who were journeying 
down the decline. Oh, the old Armory could have told 
many tales! Now it is a memory. Not even that to 
those who have since come into the Academy’s world. 

As Mrs. Harold and Constance came out into the 
brilliant sunshine many friends greeted them, and Fay 
and Hill, who were dining with them that noon, pressed 
forward to join them to walk through the yard and 
over to quarters, for Mrs. Harold and Constance in- 
tended, as is customary in Annapolis, to wait and see 
Sunday dinner formation and then walk out to Wilmot 
Hall with their guests. 

They had not seen Clint since the Christmas Eve 
hop, he having failed to call upon Christmas Day, 
though two beautiful boxes of flowers had arrived at 
Wilmot Hall on Christmas morning and Constance was 
now wearing his big bunch of violets. 

Snap had called with Fay, Hill and many others, 
bringing with him his Christmas olferings for Mrs. 
Harold and Constance: His own photograph beauti- 
fully framed for Mrs. Harold, and a great cluster of 
American Beauty roses for Constance. She accepted 
them with a sweet dignity, feeling immensely relieved 
that several of the other men had also brought or sent 
flowers. 

Presently Snap joined them, though he walked at 

157 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Mrs. Harold’s side. The big dark eyes were quick to 
see the violets. 

They walked around the yard until the bugle sound- 
ing assembly for dinner formation sent the midshipmen 
scurrying toward the terrace, the plebes ahead of the 
others, for woe-betide any man who fails to reach the 
terrace before “the second bugle busts”, especially the 
plebe, who must come punctually to his own particular 
brick, scrupulous and immaculate from straight set cap 
to carefully polished shoes, though undue punctuality 
not infrequently arouses jeers and gibes. 

The five-striper strode with dignity to his position, 
halted, wheeled about upon his educated toe, and stood 
at attention, facing the brigade, the brigade adjutant 
directly in front of him. The four-stripers each at the 
head of his battalion, alert and watchful for the delin- 
quent. Each cadet lieutenant watching out to see that 
his company made a good showing, his two- and one- 
stripers co-operating. 

From the walk in front of Bancroft Hall a crowd 
was gathered to look upon the eight hundred men 
before them, faultless as much drilling in the wisdom 
of being faultless could make them. Of course there 
is the ever-officious striper who fusses and bustles like 
an anxious mamma with her first-born in the photog- 
rapher’s chair. Such a one lorded it over a company 
directly in front of Mrs. Harold and Constance, and 
he was fully alive to their presence. Hence the imagi- 
nary lint or speck to be brushed from one luckless 
plebe’s coat; the hat to be placed at a slightly differ- 
158 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 


ent angle upon another’s head ; then the drawing back 
to note the effect, as a salewoman in a millinery shop 
draws back to admire her customer’s fetching head- 
gear. Then still another little dart forward and a 
final touch. But much must be overlooked in a one- 
striper whose honors have rested upon his shoulder 
less than three months. 

After muster the orders of the day were read, assign- 
ing their detail to the various men to go on duty. Then 
came sharply issued orders to fall out to those fortu- 
nate enough to have been favored with invitations to 
dine elsewhere, after which company after company 
marched away to the mess hall. Two minutes later 
the terrace was deserted as feminine friends joined 
masculine friends to hasten out into town. 

Mrs. Harold’s conscience pricked a little: This was 
the first Christmastide that Clint and Snap had not 
been her guests. Snap had quietly asked her not to 
invite him under the circumstances, and Clint had pled 
engagements elsewhere. She felt as though two mem- 
bers of her family had deserted her. 

It was fortunate for Constance that she was not 
stopping at Mrs. Waltham’s just then, for the minor 
in the carol had become a decided discord. Neither 
Ned nor Billy had been able to attend the Christmas 
dinner which Mrs. Waltham gave, nor could she learn 
the true cause, and as is invariably the case under 
such circumstances, imagination drew a most distorted 
picture. She had learned that both Ned and Billy 
were under arrest, but not the reason therefor. Natu- 
159 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


rally, Katherine and Anna declined to throw any light 
upon the subject or to make any allusion to a tryst 
they had kept at nine-thirty P. M. the previous Thurs- 
day. As to Clint, Katherine made life a burden for 
him by her caustic remarks, and Anna fumed and 
fretted like the spoiled baby she was. As the outcome 
of his supersensitive pride, he avoided both Mrs. Harold 
and Constance, whose words still rankled, — anticipat- 
ing at their hands a similar form of persecution to that 
meted out to him at Mrs. Waltham’s, thereby missing 
the one source of comfort open to him in his present 
frame of mind. And thus matters stood during the 
holiday week, which to Clint proved anything but a 
festive one. 

Hill and Fay were fully aware of the unfortunate 
state into which affairs had fallen, but neither saw 
any way to straighten it out, although either would 
gladly have done so. Fay, in his quiet, reserved dig- 
nity, resented the attitude assumed by those whom he 
believed to be Clint’s firm friends, and Hill had not 
hesitated to express himself pretty strongly, with the 
result that he had since been openly snubbed by Anna 
and Katherine. But the self-complacent Hill was not 
to be disturbed by the caprices of two girls whom he 
had pretty accurately sized up the first moment he 
laid eyes upon them. 

Excepting at the general gatherings at Mrs. 
Harold’s Clint had seen very little of Constance since 
BiUy’s escapade, the other men having escorted her 
to the informals. Indeed, he had not attended one, so 


160 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 


completely had his time been filled by the duties which 
the investigation imposed upon him. 

And thus stood matters when the 9 :30 P. M. gun 
boomed its signal for a half hour’s relaxation the 
Wednesday preceding the New Year’s hop, to which 
Clint was to take Constance, and which he had antici- 
pated with more eagerness than he realized until the 
present crisis made him almost dread it. 

He was in his bedroom that evening trying to decide 
whether to write a note to the girl who was filling his 
thoughts and apologize for his absence from the in- 
formal that afternoon, for he knew that Hill had put 
his name on her card, or whether to let matters take 
their own course, when the study door opened and 
closed. 

‘‘Hello, out there,” he called out as Snap entered the 
room, and glanced up with pen suspended. Snap crossed 
behind him and looked at his companion, a half yearn- 
ing expression in his dark eyes. 

“Well.?” queried Clint. 

“Change the W to an H and you’ll come nearer 
expressing my frame of mind,” retorted Snap. 

“Perhaps mine, too,” answered Clint, closing his 
writing-case and slamming it upon the book shelf. Snap 
noticed the precaution. 

“Clint, what is to be the outcome of this darned 
business anyway.?” demanded Snap. “I’m getting sick 
of the whole show. What the devil possessed those two 
fools.? They ought to have known the inevitable out- 
161 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

come. Have you seen this.?’” Snap held out a crumpled 
note. 

“No, what is it?” 

“Some of the most infernal rot you ever read. I 
knew that girl was a fool, but didn’t suppose she was 
seven kinds bunched together. The O. C. found this 
in Ned’s pocket — ^pity the lady couldn’t know its fate; 
it might teach her a lesson, — Ned was past knowing 
or caring what became of it that night. O. C. read it 
aloud as a good joke and gave it to me to cherish for 
Ned, I dare say. It seems to be public property. By 
heaven, if some of the girls and women who write to 
us men could guess the fate of their billet doux I think 
they’d be a little more careful.” 

Clint took the soiled, crushed note and read: 

Hollyhurst, December 22, 19 — . 

My Own: 

You know you are my own even though I can*t re- 
sist teasing you to distraction, don’t you? Yet you 
so often doubt me. How can you? If you really, 
truly knew how much you hurt me you never would 
doubt. Of course I do and say things before others 
which make you flare up, but, you dear, silly boy, can’t 
you understand why? Suppose people thought we 
were engaged? Where would, — I mean, what would be 
said? Why, you have to go flve whole months before 
you can even graduate. 

But listen, you dear old dear: Nan and I are going 
to be just dead tired Thursday night and ask to be 
excused early. Mrs. Waltham may be fly, but she’s 
got to be flier to get ahead of your Honey-bunn, Neddy. 

162 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 


I know this house pretty well. It’s all stairs and back 
doors. The supt’s gate is only a few minutes away. 
Nine-thirty gun. Bring Billy. 

Forever thine till you like someone else better. 

Pussy. 

The note had fulfilled its mission. If a detour out 
around the marine barracks and much dodging of the 
ever-alert “Jimmy-legs” (the yard watchmen) had 
been necessary, no one betrayed that fact, or that two 
girls had crept through a little door and up a back 
stairway to their bedroom in Mrs. Waltham’s at eleven 
P. M. to talk over the escapade until a wintry dawn 
put an end to their whispers. 

“What in thunder was the use of the O. C. giving 
you that rot? Isn’t the mess bad enough already?” 
asked Clint. 

“I should think so,” answered Snap. 

“So should I, but what can you expect when two 
of a kind draw a full hand?” asked Clint, bitterly. 

Snap broke into a mirthless laugh as he replied: 

“For a man not given to indulging in that game, 
you put it pat.” 

“Safer, maybe, than some other games I could have 
mentioned.” 

“That may be true too, but real life seems to be 
made up of games, doesn’t it? And we often get the 
credit of having played some in which we haven’t in- 
dulged.” 

Clint was prowling aimlessly about the room. At 
Snap’s copcJuding words he glanced up quickly, a look 
163 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


of half-doubt, half-faith in his eyes for his friend. 
Snap’s eyes followed him. Each was restlessly nervous 
though manifesting it differently. One man was ut- 
terly miserable — the other infuriated and ready to 
crash into the first thing at hand. 

‘‘Clint, why didn’t you show up at the informal this 
afternoon.?’” demanded Snap irrelevantly, as he seated 
himself upon the edge of the bed. The memory of the 
picture Constance had made was still vivid. 

“Did she ask why.?” 

' “Who.?” asked Snap quickly. Clint glanced at him 
in time to catch the half-smile and colored. 

Snap had been idly toying with a golf stick which 
he had taken from a case within reach. Without an 
instant’s warning, he raised it and brought it crashing 
down upon the floor. The iron heel flew off, rebounded 
and shivered a washbowl, as Snap sprang to his feet 
and hurled the useless handle upon the floor. Then 
turning to Clint, he forced him down upon the one chair 
the room boasted. Clint was a strong man, but his 
strength was as nothing measured against Snap’s in 
his present mood. 

The black eyes blazed into the gray ones as man 
looked at man and each realized that a crisis was 
pending. 

“Clint, you and I are masquerading and it won’t do ; 
we’ve been chums for nearly four years. Perhaps I 
haven’t been able to make you feel it — ^maybe I don’t 
know how — ^but there isn’t another man in the Academy 

164 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 


— there never has been in my life — who can take your 
place. Do you know that.?” 

Clint nodded but did not speak. There was some- 
thing that made it impossible for him to. 

“Until this winter, nothing has ever come between 
us — we’ve done the grand fussing act — at least, I have, 
a dozen girls to the year, and the grass-widow, as 
every one knows. You’ve taken the epidemic more 
mildly; but, old man, unless I’m much mistaken, we 
have both got simon-pure cases and pretty well-devel- 
oped ones this time. Now the question is, which one 
of us is going to be killed or cured by the remedy.? 
There’s only one, Clint, you know it is as well as I do, 
and it isn’t the least use for us to try to shut our eyes 
to the fact.” 

“Yes, I’ve known it since the Army-Navy game,” 
said Clint quietly. 

“So have I in your case. Not quite so long, per- 
haps, in my own. But I know more than you do now. I 

know ” Snap paused, not even the man before 

him realized the effort required to shape the words 
he had resolved to speak. 

“Don’t tell me, if you would rather not,” Clint said 
under his breath. “It may be better for me not to 
know. Possibly I’m not sufficiently sure of myself 
to entitle me to hear — to learn what you mean to tell 
me.” 

“Will you answer me one question.?” asked Snap. 

Clint did not reply, but held out his hand and looked 

165 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

straight into Snap’s eyes. He nearly flinched at the 
grip. 

‘‘Are you in dead earnest there?” asked Snap. 

“What do you think?” Clint’s lips were slightly 
compressed. 

“That you are because — I was standing upon the 
crest of the hill last Wednesday,” said Snap almost 
inaudibly. 

“Then you know I am ?” 

“Yes, — ^but she doesn’t trust me now as she trusts 
you, Clint. She did at first, but Thanksgiving settled 
that. I know it and feel it, and she has reason to 
doubt. If she had lived here longer she would have 
more, but, God bless her! she’s too pure to under- 
stand the evil of the world. Clint, you are a better 
man than I, — it is no use my telling you that — no, 
don’t interrupt me — we’re down to rock bottom facts 
now. Life has been different for you. Everything has 
tended to make it easier, straighter. Your standards 
and mine have been different. They never meant much 
to me before — I didn’t care — I do now, and I wish 
my page was as clean to show the woman I hope 
to marry some day, for I’ll let her read it if she turns 
me down for it, so help me God ! But yours — well, it’s 
one any woman might read without changing color, I 
think, and the one we both have in mind would read 
yours with a smile. I — I — can almost see it,” and for 
a moment the dark eyes softened and looked out of 
the window. Then the low, intense voice continued: 
“If I’m any judge, you have a pretty fair field there. 

166 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 


You’ve fought shy for a few days but you need not 
have done so — you have no more loyal friend on earth, 
and — and — her sympathy is all on your side. It 
would not be very hard to make it deeper.” 

“It’s far too early in the game,” interrupted Clint. 
“No girl can make up her mind in three months, and — 
I — I would not want her to, Hunter.” 

Snap broke into an incredulous laugh, as he drew 
back and dropped upon the bed again. 

“Vd Tnohe her make up her mind in less than one 
month if it wasn’t — wasn’t that — ^well — if she wasn’t 
as far above me as the stars from the earth.” 

“Ah!” The word was merely an exhalation, but it 
told volumes. 

“Yes, we both feel that. You needn’t say any 
more, but therein lies our inspiration. The man hasn’t 
been borne who ought to breathe the air she does. But 
I want to tell you this : As matters now stand, youWe 
in the lead by a good length. I know that because she 
took the trouble to ask me point blank regarding your 
duty as commander of your company when you refused 
to answer her question. And it was a good deal for 
her to ask me under the circumstances. She has never 
been alone with me since Thanksgiving if she could 
decently avoid being.” 

“What did she ask.?^” demanded Clint, eagerly. 

Snap repeated their conversation word for word, 
then added: “Do you wan’t more to convince you of 
her loyalty.?” 

“That’s all, I’m afraid, — just loyalty.” 

167 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


“Oh, damn it !” burst out Snap, incensed beyond 
control at this seeming apathy, and rising from the 
bed. “Wayne, I shall never willingly do anything to 
forfeit your friendship. You believe that, don’t you.^^” 

He paused Clint nodded. “Well, knowing that, 

I’m going to tell you right here and now that that 
little girl means more to me than any I’ve ever met 
before, and if I can do so by fair means I’m going to 
win her. I give you fair warning. It will be nip and 
tuck maybe, but by all that I feel to be sweetest, purest 
and holiest on earth, I’m going to put all that is best 
in me in the effort. You understand It all rests 
with her in the end; she must choose between us, but, 
old man, let’s try to remember auld lang syne and what 
we have been to each other.” 

Snap’s voice failed, but he looked straight into his 
friend’s eyes as he held out his hand. 

“God, and my right — and — and — ^her,” answered 
Clint, under his breath, and the next second was alone. 

He sat motionless for a time, then reached for the 
writing-case. 

Fifteen minutes later he had dropped a note down 
the mail chute! It was brief: 

Dear Miss Constance: 

Will you forgive my seeming neglect this week and 
especially to-day.? I can’t explain either now, but 
will, perhaps, at the hop. Is it to be the shell-pink 
gown that night.? Please wear it — it seems so much a 
part of you that you and the gown are invariably 
associated in my thoughts. 

As ever, 

168 


Clinton Wayne. 


IN CHRISTMAS WEEK 


Snap returned to 267, and passing through the 
study shared by him and Fay entered his bedroom and 
flung himself upon his bed. Fay was not in his room 
and both it and the study were in darkness. Presently 
taps would sound. Already he could hear some of the 
men passing along the corridors to their rooms. Soon 
the stripers would make their rounds. Snap knew that 
Clint would not come near his, however. 

It is the duty of the Cadet Lieutenant of each com- 
pany to inspect the rooms of the men of his company 
and report all accounted for, though they never trouble 
their own junior lieutenant’s rooms. 

As he lay there with hands clasped above his head 
and looking with unseeing eyes upon the bay shimmer- 
ing in the wintry moonlight, more serious thoughts 
passed through his brain than had ever before in his 
twenty-two years. The past three-and-a-half years 
rolled before him as though upon a scroll. 

‘‘Great God, what chance have I?” he murmured. 
“If the merry widow hadn’t succeeded in queering me 
already, there’s Clint and that man up home. If I 
win out on this handicap it will be a fight all through. 
She was more like herself Christmas Eve than she’s 
been any time since Thanksgiving, but it’s ‘Mr. 
Hunter’ always ; and though she can be all that’s 
sweet and gracious, I’d no more dare touch her than 
I’d dare touch one of God Almighty’s angels; yet, by 
heaven, if she were any other girl I’d have done it long 
ago. What is it that holds me back.?* No other woman 
has ever had the power to. Damn the merry widow! 
169 


THE MAED OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


I wish I’d never laid eyes upon her, and if she tries any 
of her games with Constance I believe I’ll choke her or 
do something desperate. But she’s perfectly capable 
of anything. It’s up to me to watch out. Ugh, the 
very thought of her makes me sick now, and three 
months ago I was hard hit. We’re a queer make-up. 
Which is the real me, I wonder. Is that girl going to 
show me? God bless her! Well, there have been three 
women in this world I’ve been able to trust: My own 
mother, the Little Mother over yonder, and Constance 
Howland, no matter what comes. Taps,” — as the long, 
sweet notes of the bugle rang through the building. 
Snap rose from his bed, undressed and turned in; five 
minutes later nearly every light in the building had 
been turned out, and only the marine orderlies and 
jackies detailed for night duty were awake. 


170 


Chapter XIII 


AT TAPS 

‘‘Wrap up warmly, dear. It is a villainous night. 
The idea of a foot of snow in Annapolis,” said Mrs. 
Harold, as Constance left the sitting-room to go into 
her own room for her evening wrap. “And Clint, 
laddie, please hand me my scarf.” 

Clint took the scarf from the chair near him and 
adjusted it gently upon Mrs. Harold’s head, saying: 

“It is good to be restored to favor. Little Mother,” 
as his eyes rested aifectionately upon her. 

“Foolish boy, you have never been deposed. It was 
purely your own super-sensitiveness which made you 
imagine it. I thought you had better sense, Clint. But 
what is the outcome of the investigation, if it’s not a 
state secret?” 

“Seventy-five D’s and restriction till March. Pretty 
high price to pay for a few hours’ cutting loose, but 
they might have known it. It’s been tried too often 
to get away with. But gee, I’m in wrong at Holly- 
hurst!” ended Clint. 

“Don’t let that little riffle distrub you. The girls 
aren’t worth noticing, and when Mrs. Waltham learns 
the truth she’ll feel indebted instead of indignant. But 
171 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


liere" is my girlie. Let’s get under way. Is our — shall 
I say carriage? — ^waiting?” 

“Better find out just what Jones’ ‘best’ proves to be,” 
answered Clint. “I ordered a closed carriage — ^but — 
the idea of riding in this town, anyway.” 

^They hurried to the front door of Wilmot to find — 
an open sleigh, the dusky driver somewhat the worse 
for his New Year’s Eve conviviality. On such a night 
and witli such a large hop on hand, there was no 
alternative ; it was a case of taking the sleigh or walk- 
ing. Mrs. Harold, Constance and Clint clambered into 
theirs, their driver being, if possible, more hilarious 
than the drivers of several other sleighs, all bound for 
the Armory, and the procession set forth, horses on a 
dead run, drivers standing up and cracking their whips 
as they yelled to one another like a band of Co- 
manches. 

“Our necks will certainly be broken before we reach 
there,” cried Mrs. Harold. “Make him drive prop- 
erly, Clint.” 

“Hi! you fool! One bell! Slow down, will you?” 
shouted Clint as the sleigh tore down Maryland Avenue 
and into the gate, Africa bent upon overhauling every- 
thing ahead. 

“He’s going to speed the Old Year out witbTV rush,”^ 
laughed Constance. “Be ready^to catch me J when Jthe 
crash comes, Mr. Wayne.” 

“I’ve been on the lookout every'^second,” answered 
Clint, “but where in blazes is the idiot going?” he cried 
as the man, instead of driving up to the Armory door, 
172 


AT TAPS 


rushed on down the driveway which led under! the 
Colonnade. 

“Yas, sah! Yas, sah! I gets round’ ter de yether, 
end. Drives right close up to de do’ dar shouted 
the driver. 

“You’ll do nothing ” the sentence was " never 

completed, for at that instance, snap! went the wiffle- 
tree, and away plunged the horses to vanish in the 
darkness. Africa promptly keeled over the dashboard 
and landed in a limp heap in front of the sleigh, which 
swerved suddenly, and crashed into the masonry of 
the covered driveway, where to this hour the break 
made by the runner testifies to the impact which nearly 
dumped out the sleigh’s occupants. 

Africa scrambled to his feet. “Reckon we cyant go 
no furder, boss,” he stammered, rubbing his head rue- 
fully. There was a smothered exclamation from Clint 
as he bounded from the vehicle. 

“Well, you willy you confounded fool!” 

“My Lawd, boss !” yelled Africa, but the words were 
stified by a mouthful of snow as Clint hurled him 
bodily into a snow-drift then turned back to the sleigh. 

“Come out, Mrs. Harold, it’s the only way,” he said, 
half laughingly, half angrily, lifting her out and carry- 
ing her to the walk. 

“Well, if this isn’t the limit !” gasped that disgusted 
woman. “Connie, don’t set foot to the ground until 
Clint comes back for you.” 

“She won’t. I’ll warrant,” answered Constance’s 
knight, returning to the sleigh for her. 

17S 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘T’ve been in a great many predicaments in the 
course of my life, but never the equal to this,” laughed 
Constance. 

“I’ve found myself in worse ones,” was Clint’s whim- 
sical answer and as he lifted her lightly out of the sleigh 
she felt his lips brush her cheek as he whispered: 
“Wonder if I have mussed your gown? I couldn’t 
stand for that, for I never hope to see anything prettier 
than it — or its wearer.” 

“If you’ve only spared my violets I won’t say a 
word,” answered Constance as he set her down dryshod 
beside Mrs. Harold, and they hurried toward the great 
Armory, already well filled and gay with lights and 
banners. 

Billy had already claimed Anna and Duncan was 
just resigning Katherine to Ned when the belated ones 
hurried into the dressing-room. Billy and Ned had 
been granted special liberty to attend the hop to-night, 
but could not leave the yard. 

“Oh, Mr. Fay, you know our old rendezvous, of 
course. Same old corner,” Katherine called over her 
shoulder as she walked away with Ned. 

“I’ll not forget. Miss Bell.” 

“No, he’s not likely to, and if he did, you’d jog his 
memory,” grumbled Morris. 

“Now, are you going to be just hateful all the even- 
ing? Because if you are, I’m going to keep away from 
you. You may thank your stars that I consented to 
come at all. You’ve disgraced yourself and me. 
And there’s another thing I want you to understand. 


i 

( 


i 


I74i 


AT TAPS 


You’re not to tag after me every minute. I simply 
won’t have it. If you see me sitting alone you can 
come straight over to me, but if anyone is with me of 
course you need not.” 

“Thank you; a case of two’s company, I suppose.” 

Katherine shrugged her shoulders and continued : 
“And mind you, don’t give the faintest hint of our 
engagement ” 

“Now, see here, Katherine, when are you going to 
quit this bluff? It’s got to be ” 

“Well, it hasn't until I’m ready. It would spoil all 
my fun.” 

“I like that.” 

“I’m delighted. I’ve been trying for weeks to please 
you. And here comes Mr. Fay. I wonder if he couldn’t 
find his partner?” was her innocent remark. 

“The devil !” was Morris’ smothered exclamation. 

“N-o; why, the idea! Did your bad temper evoke 
one? Perhaps Mr. Fay felt that I needed cheering.” 

“He feels too keenly, I’m afraid. He’s always on 
hand. Can’t he find any other place on earth? What 
brings him here now? He hasn’t this dance.” 

“I think he is coming because I’m here. He’s so 
thoughtful and attentive.” 

“Yes, mighty. Wonder he can’t think of someone 
else. You take pains that he shan’t, don’t you?” 

“Of course. He is never ill-tempered. Oh, Mr. 

Fay, this isn’t your dance, but ” 

‘Her bounty is as boundless as the sea’,” he quoted, 
then added: “But I can’t take advantage of it this 
175 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


time, v/oe is me; Miss Howland’s dance, you see,” and 
he paused for one brief second to hold his card for 
inspection, then hurried away. 

Katherine flushed. Her bait had failed to land that 
time. 

“Thank the Lord !” breathed Morris. “Now, come 
with me. I’ve a word more to say. I haven’t set eyes 
on you since that damned night.” 

“Then do, for mercy sake, say it and have done, but 
don’t swear 

There are nooks to be found in the Armory for those 
clever enough to find them. To one of these Morris 
promptly led the way, Katherine following willy-nilly. 
Bending over her, he took her hand, tried to look into 
her face, as he waited against hope for her to speak. 

“Haven’t you one word to say, dear! I haven’t 
heard your voice since that confounded night.” 

“That is all your fault.” 

“Is it.?” 

“Of course. You were not obliged to french, if you 
did not wish to, you know, and certainly I had no part 
in the rest of the show.” 

“Who asked me to french, I’d like to know.?” 

“Why, I don’t know — who did.? I’ve forgotten.” 

“Forgotten! Oh, Katherine, don’t you know I love 
you? When you said you and Nan would be on King 
George Street behind Upshur Row ” 

“But you and Billy were not obliged te be there too^ 
or to get into such a state afterward. Do tell me a 
176 


AT TAPS 


new story. All this is such an old one. I’m tired to 
death of ‘I love you’ !” 

A shadow fell across Morris’ face. In a way he did 
love this girl. ‘‘Can’t you say just one little word to 
me, dear?” he begged. 

“Will any old word do? Fudge, then,” was the 
frivolous reply. 

Morris drew back. The week had been harder and 
more humiliating for him than any one guessed. 
“Won’t you tell me that you love me, for I believe you 
do, after all,” he begged. 

“Must I tell a lie?” 

“Perhaps no great effort would be required,” he 
answered bitterly. 

“How funny. He said that, too.” 

“TF/io.?” 

“Oh, do you think you are the only one?” 

“Do you mean to tell me you let other men make 
love to you like this? Do you care for some one else?” 

“Not just at this moment. But there are such hosts 
of men here,” laughingly. 

“What a heartless flirt you are! You care abso- 
lutely nothing for me beyond the satisfaction of the 
moment, and you make an absolute fool — and worse — 
of me. Come,” and without another word Morris led 
the way back to the Armory floor. 

A sly, furtive glance was shot at him from a pair 
of shrewd eyes. Had she made a mistake? She was 
an adept at the game, but even an adept has been 
known to make a false move. 

177 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


In another part of the Armory Billy was doing his 
best to reinstate himself in the good graces of his 
lady-love — a less difficult task than Morris found his. 
Anna’s character was not as deep as a well, and Billy 
was a most cheerful liar. 

And so sped the evening. 

It was the twenty-third dance. Constance’s partner 
for it had failed to find her (perhaps Clint could have 
explained why) and she was sitting it out, foot weary 
after twenty-two consecutive dances, for many part- 
ners had sought the dainty, pink-gowned little figure 
who danced so easily and with such evident delight. 
Clint had tried more than once during the evening to 
guide her to one of the big guns, a favorite perch for 
tired dancers, but not a dance had she missed. More- 
over, she was a trifle shy since that episode on leaving 
the sleigh. 

“I didn’t know I was tired,” said Constance, sink- 
ing upon a caisson and clasping her hands upon her 
knees. The evergreens formed a bower around her 
and a perfect background for the exquisite pink of the 
gown. i 

“I found out some time ago that I was, and I tried 
to produce sympathetic symptoms in you, but it didn’t ^ 
work,” laughed Clint. “George, a girl can outdance ■ 
a man four to one every time, can’t she.^^ And yet I’d 
make three of you, wouldn’t 1.^”’ j 

“Oh, but it’s so easy. One can’t help going when 1 
that band is playing,” answered the girl, her toes even 
then tapping time to the barn dance. 

178 


AT TAPS 


Clint did not reply, but glanced approvingly at the 
small feet. Constance colored slightly, and then she 
said more seriously: 

“You have something to tell me, Mr. Wayne Can 
you tell it now? Though you must not feel compelled 
to do so, for I do not feel an explanation at all neces- 
sary. Indeed, I’ve rather felt the shoe to be on the 
other foot, and Tante and I have been so distressed 
about it all. But I think Mr. Hunter gave you my 
message.” The dark eyes were turned frankly toward 
him. 

“I did try to see you but could not. And — yes — 
Snap delivered your message. I might have known 
you’d hold loyal. But will you give me a greater 
proof of your friendship?” 

“Then we’re all square,” laughed Constance frankly, 
holding out her hand from which she had drawn her 
glove. 

Clint grasped it warmly and retained it as he said: 
“Will you drop the formal Mr. Wayne? Can’t it be 
Clint? I slipped a nickname, somehow.” 

“Why of course I will, if you wish,” she answered, 
withdrawing her hand. “It seems so much more natu- 
ral after all. But I believe I’ll make it conditional. 
I’ve never been ‘Missed’ — take that whichever way 
you like,” she laughed, “as I have since I’ve been 
down here, and I don’t half like it; it makes friends — 
real ones, I mean — seem so far off. Shall we begin the 
new year as Constance and Clint?” 

The girl was entirely unconscious of her beauty as 

179 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


she raised her eyes to ask the question. Just above 
her an incandescent bulb in its bower of evergreen with 
‘‘Old Glory” draped above it, cast its light full upon 
the rich brown shades of her hair. 

“May we?” asked Clint, eagerly. “I think we under- 
stand each other better than we did — all three of us — 
for Snap is true blue, Constance. Why are you so 
down on him? He is one of the best fellows in the 
Academy. Can’t you give him all that’s due him? 
He thinks a whole lot of you. Get to know him better 
if you can. He’s worth it, and you and I must come to 
even a closer understanding. Will you give me the 
chance to show you how?” 

The girl did not answer, but looked down at the 
great fragrant bunch of violets he had sent her, idly 
toying with them. The man waited. Presently she 
turned toward him, both doubt and trust in the soft 
eyes as she asked: “Do you think me unjust to him? 
I have tried not to be, but — ^please don’t say anything 
more about him and we’ll keep our friendship where 
it is: We are such good chums. We like each other 
and have had such happy times together. Please say 
yes, Clint.” 

He never forgot the tone or the look as he answered 
gently: “It shall be as you wish. Come, this is our 
last dance in the old year, Constance, and will also be 
our first in the new, bringing with it promise of a 
deeper, closer — friendship,” and the next second they 
were swinging down the Armory to the strains of 
“Blossoms”. In the middle of the dance the bugle 
180 


AT TAPS 


sounded “Attention,” and instantly every dancer came 
to a standstill, as gradually the lights grew dimmer and 
dimmer until all present stood in absolute darkness and 
a silence which could be felt. Then tenderly, clearly, 
sweetly, — the notes of taps — most impressive of all 
bugle calls — sounded the requiem for the dying year. 

“Time had laid his hand .... gently, not smit- 
ing it, 

But as a harper lays his open palm 
Upon his harp to deaden its vibration.” 

The heart-throbs of those present numbered the old 
year’s moments. Somewhere off in the darkness a faint 
hysterical laugh broke involuntarily from some over- 
wrought girl’s lips, and the nervous clearing of his 
throat indicated that some man’s nerves were keyed to 
a high tension, for the moments were portentious. 

As the lights went out, Clint stood a pace or two 
from Constance’s right side. Just behind her, his 
presence unsuspected, stood Snap. He was watching 
her keenly. Constance had not replaced her gloves 
after resting and now stood with them held in her left 
hand, her right dropped at her side. How long the 
moments seemed ! How her heart was beating ! What 
a tumult of thoughts surged through her brain. Truly, 
thought is quick, for her’s flashed from the experiences 
of her trip to Annapolis, and her first meeting with 
Clint, to the eve of the Army-Navy game and his words 
spoken upon the Colonnade. Of her walk with him 
just before Christmas; of her transportation from the 
181 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


sleigh to the sidewalk to-night. Then of their talk 
but a few moments before. Was Snap one of the best 
fellows in the Academy She knew he was Clint’s 
closest friend. How close she little suspected. But 
how many rumors had come to her ears regarding him. 
Nevertheless, she knew that he held a very warm spot 
in her aunt’s heart, and “Tante” was a pretty fair 
judge of character. But Clint had endured so much 
lately. It was a shame. How like Hart he was in 
many ways. What was Hart doing at that moment.? 
And her mother and Gail and Polly. She could almost 
see them as they gathered around the fire-place in the 
sitting-room in Montgentian as upon many former 
occasions and each little incident was pictured as 
vividly as though flashed in electric flashes upon the 
darkness surrounding her. 

Just then eight bells sounded the knell of the de- 
parting year, and with the strokes Constance felt her 
right hand firmly clasped, gently raised, and held to 
lips which pressed it with a fervor to tell a tale with- 
out the medium of words. 

The next moment reveille was sounding the birth of 
the new year, the lights flashed up, and Clint, offering 
his hand, said: 

“A happy new year, Constance, and many, many of 
them. Now we will finish our dance in 19 — ,” for the 
band had resumed the two-step at the bar at which it 
had ceased playing and once more the room was a whirl 
of colors and uniforms. ‘‘The King is dead: Long 
live the King !” 


182 


AT TAPS 


With her thoughts in a tumult, Constance finished 
the two-step, and during the short interval between 
that dance and the final one of the evening talked for a 
moment with Snap. He was strangely quiet. What 
ailed him? What a puzzle this man seemed. Before she 
could arrive at any conclusion, ‘‘Home, Sweet Home” 
waltz, announced the end of the hop and she glided 
away with Clint. When the waltz was finished, all 
stood at attention as the strains of “The Star Spangled 
Banner” filled the great Armory. Clint stood at her 
left side. Snap at her right. Had fate so placed them? 
A strange little nervous tremor stirred the girl as she 
stood as rigidly at attention as the men, her head held 
with the proud little poise of her Grandmother Drake 
and the ancestors who had given her her name, her soul 
filled with reverence for Old Glory and the inspiring 
anthem. 

Six bells were striking when Constance dropped 
asleep that night — nay — that morning. Upon her right 
hand was a little spot which seemed to burn. Yet 
Clint’s face had given no sign as he wished her a happy 
new year. Could he dissemble so well? It was so 
baffling, yet her cheek was pressed to the back of her 
right hand when she fell asleep. 


183 


Chapter XIV 


GOOD-BYE 

January, with its hops, informals and general round 
of entertaining, was drawing to a close, and each pass- 
ing day brought nearer the semi-ans, mortally dreaded 
by those who had led the gay and festive life when 
“boning” should have been uppermost in their thoughts ; 
hailed with delight as an interval of rest from the daily 
round of recitations by the extra “savvy” whose stand- 
ing put examinations on the list of evils escaped. 

Toward the end of the month Mrs. Harold con- 
tracted a severe cold and was obliged to keep her bed 
for a few days. Constance devoted every moment to 
her until she said: “Honey, I believe I’ve never before 
known the luxury of being ill ; that is, comfortably ill” 

“Well, if sneezing your poor noddle nearly off and 
coughing yourself almost into fiddle-strings is your 
idea of luxury. I’ll take Hhe strenuous life’, please,” 
laughed Constance, as she arranged her aunt’s pillows 
before going down to her own breakfast. “What shall 
I order for you, Tante.?” she asked. 

“Just coffee and rolls.” 

“And I’ll bring them up myself. That will save 
delay. Good-bye for half an hour. Don’t you dare 

184 


GOOD-BYE 


stir out of that bed while I’m gone. You are not to 

get up till noon, Dr. said, but I know your 

tricks, you see,” and blowing a kiss from the tips of 
her fingers Constance went quickly from the room, her 
aunt’s eyes following her lovingly as she thought of 
her untiring devotion. 

During the months spent at Wilmot Hall she had 
become a general favorite with its inmates and had 
now many warm friends among both old and young. 
When Mrs. Harold fell ill everyone was eager to aid 
Constance in the care of her aunt, and dozens of little 
attentions testified to their thought for both patient 
and nurse. There is, of course, invariably the over- 
zealous blunderer who never lets a day pass without 
laying a paving-stone in the “Court Yard of Hades”. 
Wilmot Hall harbored one of these and he was more 
than eager to serve Mrs. Harold’s niece, nearly driv- 
ing the girl distracted with his inopportune attentions. 
Constance had finished her breakfast and was on her 
way up-stairs with her aunt’s. She had reached the 
first landing when Lieutenant Smith espied her and 
rushed to take the tray she carried. It was not a 
heavy tray nor an over-ladened one; Constance could 
have managed it perfectly. 

“Ah, ah! Miss Howland, Miss Howland, permit me. 
You must not burden yourself with that great weight. 
That slight form ! Those slender wrists I Ah 1” 

Constance groaned inwardly but did not pause, 
merely saying pleasantly: 

185 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘Oh, it isn’t a bit heavy, thank you. I can manage 
it perfectly.” 

“Not with me at hand,” was the literally truthful 
reply, “Ah!” In his eagerness to reach her. Lieu- 
tenant Smith stumbled up-stairs, lost his balance, and 
succeeded in upsetting Constance’s tray, the little pot 
of coffee, a jug of cream and two rolls. The last were 
well named, for they promptly shot off their plate and 
went bumping and bounding down the stairs, to dis- 
appear between the baluster rails and land upon the 
heads of the luckless people sitting on the lounge at 
the bottom, while Constance sat upon the top step with 
the contents of the coffee-pot and the cream jar in her 
lap. That afternoon Middies’ Haven rang with laugh- 
ter as she pictured the scene to the men gathered 
there. 

Mrs. Harold, still rather “shaky on her underpin- 
ning,” as Hill phrased it, was resting upon her couch, 
pillows plumped up high behind her, her boys vying 
with one another to render her a dozen little attentions. 

Fay had chosen the vantage point of the big morris 
chair before the blazing logs. Hill sat upon one window 
seat, the rings of his cigarette floating upward and out 
through the open window, for January in Annapolis 
frequently treats one to an April day, and this was 
one of them. The open fire was a concession to the 
month rather than any real need, though it did main- 
tain a most perfect ventilation. Some of the other 
men were “at ease” about the room and a spirit of 
harmony and perfect content encompassed it. 

186 


GOOD-BYE 


‘‘All snug and skee, Little Mother?” asked Clint, 
pausing as he crossed the room to adjust the rug across 
Mrs. Harold’s feet and smile down upon the friend 
whose friendship meant so much to him. 

“As a bug in a rug, foster-son,” was the smiling 
answer. I’m in more than a fair way to be spoiled if I 
continue masquerading as an invalid.” 

“Masquerading nothing! Grippe is no joke. But if 
it’s sure enough a masquerade, keep up the show. 
Makes it all the more homey to have you right there. 
We can delude ourselves with the idea that you really 
need us, though I dare say we worry the very life out 
of you with our hot air. I should think you’d get so 
dead tired of us that you’d up-anchor and shove off 
for a new holding ground, though you’d never let us 
guess why.” 

“I’d find it hard to duplicate my present one. I 
know all the ‘buoys’ in this one so well.” 

“Oh-h! Constance give her a dose of that quinine, 
or whatever dope Dr. Carpenter gave her. That’s the 
worst ever.” 

“What has she said?” demanded Constance from the 
door where she was just taking the afternoon mail 
from the bell-boy. She glanced hastily at the super- 
scriptions, recognizing one as Hart Murray’s, another 
as her mother’s, and then laid the letters upon the 
desk. 

“Any for me, honey?” asked her aunt. 

“No, Tante. All mine. Two from home and the 

187 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ FIAVEN 


other from someone here in town. A bid to something, 

I dare say. Envelope looks interesting.” 

Then arose the all-absorbing question of the ap- 
proaching semi-annual examinations and the conver- 
sation became more general. 

In the midst of it Constance was a little surprised to 
see Snap enter. He had rarely called when he felt 
sure she would be at home, though rarely missing an 
opportunity to visit Mrs. Harold when he could do so 
alone. 

“Hello ! Good work ! High time you showed up !” 
were some of the welcomes. “I’ll resign my seat to the 
stranger within our gates,” cried Fay, offering the 
morris chair. 

“Thanks, but I prefer this,” answered Snap, as he 
crossed to Mrs. Harold’s couch and dropped upon the 
low chair which Constance usually occupied. 

“How goes it. Little Mother? Cold knocked out and 
feeling lots better?” he asked, bending toward her. 

“I’m almost as good as ever, and this graceful and 
interesting pose is only a concession to that tyrant,” 
and she nodded toward Constance. 

“And you told me this morning you had only begun 
to learn the luxury of being ill. I like that !” retorted 
Constance. 

“Somebody’s getting bluffed,” commented Hill. “But 
who cares, if we’re all happy.” 

“I’ve a double errand to-day,” interrupted Snap. 
“The first to inquire after the Little Mother and the 
second to deliver this note to its rightful owner. In 
188 


GOOD-BYE 


some unacountable way the envelope was addressed to 
me, as you see. Naturally, I opened it, but the first 
line put me wise. It is for you. Miss Howland, you 
see,” and Snap rose to hand Constance a daintily 
scented envelope which he drew from his blouse. 

‘‘For me? How funny ! How under the sun could it 
have been addressed to you? Do you people mind if 
I read it? I’m all curiosity.” 

“No, of course not. Read away. Get busy,” came 
from all sides. 

At the first words the smile left Constance’s face and 
she said without comment, “O it is just a note from 
Mrs. Cardine asking me to help receive at her tea next 
week,” and laid the note upon the desk with those she 
had placed there a few moments before. 

Snap shot a quick glance at Mrs. Harold, his face 
coloring with anger. He thought he had recognized 
the writing. Her lips closed firmly. Fay, quick to 
note the change in the harmonious atmosphere, asked 
laughingly : 

“Has any one been keeping tabs on Billy? How’s 
he likely to come out on semi-ans? He’s a sort of infant 
son to this bunch.” 

“Guess he’ll fetch through this time: he hasn’t time 
to think of anything else just at present, unless it’s 
writing to Nan. Every time I go to his room I find 
reams of note paper in evidence. Never misses a day. 
Got a bad case on,” laughed Hill. 

“Well, he’d better turn his attention to nav. instead 
of Nan, or there’ll be something doing next week,” was 
189 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Clint’s telling comment. ‘‘But why don’t you read 
your home letters, Constance? I can see by your face 
that you are dying to. Don’t mind us. We are not 
company any more. We’re all in the family.” 

“Would you-all mind if I did?” she asked, uncon- 
sciously lapsing into one of the quaint Southern idioms 
which she had picked up during her residence in the 
town where representatives of every state in the Union 
had foregathered. 

“Go ahead. Read away,” came from all sides. 

“Thank you. I think I will,” she answered, as she 
opened her mother’s letter. Clint turned to enter into a 
discussion of the approaching semi-ans, though he con- 
trived to watch her and soon saw a shadow gradually 
fall across her face. She finished reading her mother’s 
letter and opened the second. Hart’s. As she read the 
shadow grew deeper, and into her eyes crept a look of 
keen distress. Clint, with assumed indifference, crossed 
to the fire-place, tossed his half-smoked cigarette upon 
the logs and then went to Constance’s side. The girl 
was too deeply engrossed in her letter to be aware of 
his approach and her hand had begun to tremble 
slightly as she drew near the end. 

“What is it, dear?” he asked very softly. 

Unconscious of the half-whispered appellation, she 
turned toward him and answered as though for his 
ears alone: 

“Oh, Clint ! Polly ! She is so ill and mother has not 
told me the truth. Poor little mother — so anxious and 
aU alone,” and the eyes raised to his were suffused. 
190 


GOOD-BYE 


‘‘Isn’t your sister, Gail, with her?” 

“Yes, but Gail is so young. Oh, I am needed, ter- 
ribly needed, and I never dreamed it while I’ve been 
enjoying myself here. I must go back at once; with- 
out a moment’s delay. If anything happened to Polly 
I’d never forgive my selfishness. Hart would not have 
written if he had not believed it imperative. He prom- 
ised he would write if I were needed and he knows. 
Mother never would send for me if she could possibly 
get on without me.” 

“I wonder if he really does know, or whether the 
opportunity isn’t too good to let slip,” thought Clint, 
recalling the meeting at the Walton, but he said: 

“Does he say what ails Polly?” 

“No, but there has been a perfect epidemic of scarlet 
fever ” 

Over the strong face looking down upon the girl’s 
swept a rapid change. Instantly he put out his hand 
and placed it upon her arm as though to detain her, 
saying in a low, tense voice, “Constance, you won’t 
go — ^you must not. I can’t let you.” 

“Why I ” then the full significance of his words 

and act seemed to fall upon her, but before she could 
reply the others had become aware of the change in 
her manner and Clint’s face. 

“Here, we must break up this twosing party,” cried 
one of the men banteringly. Then all realized that 
something of more moment than they believed was tak- 
ing place, and Constance said: “I’ve had bad news 
from home. No, Tante, don’t get up. Don’t let her, 
191 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


please, Mr. Hunter. But, Aunt Janet, I ought to go 
home at once. Polly is very ill. Hart has written.” 
But in spite of Snap’s protests Mrs. Harold rose from 
the couch, the thought flashing through her mind as 
it had through Clint’s, “Was Hart’s concern entirely 
disinterested,” but her words were: “May I see your 
mother’s letter, dear.?^” She read it quickly, then 
asked : 

“What does Mr. Murray say is the matter.? Your 
mother fails to mention the cause of Polly’s illness.” 

“Hart says scarlet fever has been raging in Mont- 
gentian. It is strange mother has not told me any- 
thing of it, though I dare say she was afraid it would 
worry me needlessly if she did. But if Polly is ill — 
never mind what the cause — I must go home at once.” 

“Now, Constance, listen to reason. If you are needed 
your mother will surely send for you, but until she 
does ” 

“No, Aunt Janet, that is precisely what she will not 
do. I know mother only too well. Please don’t try 
to make me remain, because I truly must not. I shall 
go early in the morning. And won’t you boys please 
look after Aunt Janet and let me know how she gets 
on and all about dear old Crabtown and the Academy.? 
How I shall miss you all — all.’* 

“But you’ll come back.? You’ll surely come back.?” 
asked Clint earnestly as he pressed close to her side. 

“I shall want to, oh, so much. I have never had 
such a happy time in all my life. But now I must get 
my things together. There is so much to be attended 
192 


GOOD-BYE 


to before I go. Isn’t there a train at seven-thirty to- 
morrow morning, Clint I must get that.” 

“And we can’t get out to see you off ! Oh, hang the 
regulations,” broke in Hill. 

“I’ll see that there is someone to do it, however,” 
was Clint’s quiet assertion. 

“Count on me, Constance, for anything I can do,” 
said Fay earnestly, “and come back to us as soon as 
you can. You have been a loyal friend and a good 
chum to us all. We shall miss you more than you can 
realize.” 

“Try not worry. Remember we are all backing you 
up with our good wishes and they do count, you know,” 
encouraged Hill. 

“And I’ll beat it down to the office to see that all is 
arranged for your early breakfast and a cab,” said 
Fay as he bade her good-bye, feeling that she would be 
glad to be free of visitors just now. 

Presently all were gone but Clint and Snap. Clint 
had seated himself at the desk to look up the train. 
Constance slipped into her own room. Snap crossed 
the room to Clint’s side to say: 

“This is too confounded bad, isn’t it.” I wonder if 
things really are serious up there, or whether that 
man’s just sounding a false alarm. What do you 
think.?” 

“I think I’ll break his neck if he is,” was the mut- 
tered reply. Just then Constance returned to the 
room. As Snap turned from the desk his eye fell upon 
the third letter which Constance had laid there. He 


193 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


stopped short and looked again. He had reason to 
know that writing. "What the devil was Mrs. Cardine 
writing to Constance about? The letter was a curi- 
ously thick one for a mere invitation. 

“Yes, there is a seven- thirty A. M. train from An- 
napolis, Constance,” announced Clint. 

“But Burton Fay rushed off without knowing which 
one to order my cab for,” exclaimed Constance. 

“I’ll catch him and tell him,” cried Clint. “I’ll be 
back in five minutes,” he called over his shoulder as he 
hurried from the room. 

Mrs. Harold had crossed the room to the ’phone 
and was speaking with the hotel clerk. Snap ap- 
proached Constance. 

“Good-bye, Miss Howland. I’m no end sorry for all 

this and wish I could be of some use to you, but ” 

and Snap hesitated. He had taken her hand to bid her 
good-bye. She tried to withdraw it, but he held it 
firmly as he said in a low voice: “I’d give half my 
life to feel that you held me in the same esteem you 
hold Clint, and if that scene Thanksgiving night had 
never happened.” 

“Please don’t. Perhaps if it had not been that one 
it would have been some other. I must trust my 
friends,” answered the girl, striving again to withdraw 
her hand. 

“And so help me God you shall learn to trust me in 
spite of all obstacles and appearances. You don’t 
know flZZ.” 


194 


GOOD-BYE 


“No, I hardly think I do,” replied Constance signifi- 
cantly. “Let go of my hand, Mr. Hunter.” 

With a motion swift as lightning Snap raised the 
hand and looking straight into her eyes pressed his 
lips to the back of it. 

With a little cry she snatched it from him. But 
that caress. Could two be so identical. When Mrs. 
Harold turned at Constance’s exclamation, the girl was 
pressing the back of her hand to her own lips as 
though she had scratched it. Mrs. Harold could not 
see the look in Snap’s eyes as Constance’s lips rested 
just where his own had but a second before, nor did 
she hear him murmur: 

“I’ll make you do that voluntarily some day.” 

“I — I — hate — hate — hate you!” Constance retorted 
in a furious whisper. But Mrs. Harold had turned to 
speak to Clint who re-entered the room at that moment. 
Snap made his adieux and hurried away. 

“Can I do anything for you.?^” asked Clint, as Mrs. 
Harold went into her bedroom to speak to Martha, 
whom she had requested the clerk to send to her at 
once. 

Clint turned to Constance. He was the first to 
speak. Holding out his hand he said: “Perhaps I 
didn’t know before, but I do now, I think. We seem 
to have been just ‘boys playing with tongue or with 
pen’. Now we know, I do anyway, whether we ‘shall 
ever be men’. The question has already been answered 
for me. Constance, you are more to all of us than you 
can understand and everything to two of us. I have 
195 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


got to say good-bye to you right here and now, for I 
can’t get out to-morrow morning, as you know. Try 
to understand how much I think of you, how truly my 
sympathy goes with you, what an empty place you will 
leave, not only up here in Middies’ Haven, where we 
have grown to know and esteem you, but over yonder 
in Bancroft too. You are not blind, but you are too 
troubled for me to say more just now. I shall write 
later. But must you leave Annapolis so distrustful of 
Snap.f^ Can’t the old friendship be restored.^ I am 
asking this for the truest friend I have in the world.” 

“How do you know you are.?^ You don’t know what 
you are talking about!” broke in Constance, her eyes 
and cheeks blazing. “I loathe that man!” 

“Then you’re dead wrong. Can’t you be a little more 
charitable in a certain direction, Constance Believe 
me, you are too severe,” said Clint earnestly. “You are 
far more cruel than you realize.” But the girl only 
shook her head. “How cruel a good woman can be and 
how relentless. How little you really know the world.” 

A strange expression flashed across her face as she 
asked: “Is that the impression I give? And yet in 
reality I know it so much better than most girls. Good- 
bye. Maybe you will understand me better some day.” 

“I wonder if I have misunderstood?” he said, then 
added gently: “God bless you, dear, and — good-bye.” 
His voice broke slightly. The next moment she was 
alone. 


<r: 


Chapter XV 

FOR OR AGAINST 

Constance’s preparation for her journey was very 
unlike that for her journey to Annapolis in October. 
"Where all had then been pleasant anticipation, now 
all was anxiety and remorse that she had been absent 
from her post of duty. Polly was Constance’s idol 
and few suspected how much the older sister had given 
up that the younger one might have some of the ad- 
vantages which, during more affluent days, the family 
had enjoyed. 

The packing for her early start the following morn- 
ing was hastily done, Mrs. Harold supervising Martha 
while Constance wrote a few hasty notes. Mrs. Harold 
insisted that Constance should leave behind her the 
pretty evening gowns, and many little trifles acquired 
by one means or another during her visit, as an earnest 
of her early return. ^‘1 can’t give you up, honey. As 
soon as Polly has recovered you must come back. Be- 
sides, you have a dozen engagements ahead, you know, 
to say nothing of the class german. I’ve set my heart 
on giving you the loveliest gown obtainable for that. 
So you carCt disappoint me, to say nothing of Clint.” 

‘T shall want to come back, oh, so much! You know 

197 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


I shall, Aunt Janet. And I’ve dreamed a dozen times 
of that german. But I can’t promise anything until 
I learn how things are up home,” answered Constance, 
as she hurried about gathering up her belongings. 
“Here, Martha, please put this pile of letters in the 
trunk. Some of them must be answered as soon as I 
reach home.” 

The following morning one of Clint’s friends escorted 
her to the station, and at the last moment handed her 
a box of violets which Clint had instructed him on pain 
of death to obtain by hook or by crook ; not so easy a 
task in Annapolis as it may seem. 

Mrs. Harold was unable to accompany her to the 
railway station, but was forced to see her depart from 
the hotel in the dull dawn of that January morning, 
and go upstairs to “Middies’ Haven” lonelier than she 
had ever been in her life, for the girl’s sunshine had 
permeated it, and upon every hand were evidences of 
her presnce. A pair of forgotten gloves upon the table ; 
a book half read; a withered rose upon the tea-table. 
Mrs. Harold sat down before the fire-place, the very 
logs seeming to smoulder sulkily as though missing the 
energetic little body who had so deftly wielded the tongs 
over them and prodded them to glow and sparkle as 
she herself did. 

When her train rolled into Philadelphia Constance 
was surprised and delighted to see Hart’s tall form 
come through the vestibule of her car. His face was 
beaming as he hurried toward her, dispelling instantly 
198 


FOR OR AGAINST 


the apprehension which her first glimpse of him had 
caused. 

‘‘Well, this is about the way it should be,” he said 
as he shook her hand vigorously and then twirling 
around the seat in front of her, took possession of it. 

“I’m sure that seat is engaged. Hart,” demurred 
Constance, looking about for the person who had va- 
cated it only a moment before. 

“Yes, it is : I engaged it from the New York end,” 
was the complacent reply. 

“Well, you were forehanded,” laughed Constance. 
“But tell me how Polly is.^ Your letter frightened me 
nearly to death.” 

“Polly’s all right. Just a bad case of tonsilitis. 
She’ll be up in a day or two, and is pretty nearly crazy 
because you are coming home. By-the-way, your tele- 
gram stirred things up considerably,” and Hart smiled 
in a peculiarly self-satisfied manner. 

“What do you mean. Hart.?* Didn’t they know you 
had written to say I’d better come home at once.?” de- 
manded Constance, her lips taking lines which boded ill 
for the man who had assumed so much. “Did you 
write without letting mother know.? Was my wire the 
first intimation she had.?” 

“Sure. What was the use of going into details. 
Polly was pretty sick when I wrote, and your mother 
was, as usual, worried a whole lot. Gail’s all right, of 
course, but she hasn’t got your level head in a crisis. 
I thought you ought to be on hand, so I wrote you. 
You made me promise to if anything serious turned up, 
199 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


So I did. Two serious things had: Polly certainly 
wanted to see you, and — so did I. If you’d stopped 
down there much longer that husky football fiend would 
have been trying to persuade you to join the Service 
and I’d made up my mind to put one over him, and I 
think I’ve done it pretty cleverly, too. Nom I’ll have 
a chance to say a word or two and you’ll have to 
listen.” 

Had Hart Murray been possessed of a shade less 
self-conceit he might have drawn some very sage deduc- 
tions from the flush creeping into the cheeks of the girl 
before him, and from the eyes which were growing 
darker and darker as he proceeded, until they seemed 
positively black. She had not interrupted him by a 
single word. When he finished he looked at her and 
smiled, but the smile promptly faded as he protested: 

‘‘Now, don’t get a grouch on. Con. There’s some- 
thing to be said on my side after all. Besides, Polly 
has been mighty sick. Temperature 104°, and all 
that for a day or so.” 

“I should think considerable might be said upon 
your side. Perhaps mother would have been the better 
judge as to whether she needed me enough to incur 
the additional expense of this journey, coupled with 
that of Polly’s illness, and also would have preferred 
deciding whether I should be haled forth three hundred 
miles by a man who wished to speak with me, rather 
than the man making the trip to see me. If a glimpse 
of me was so vital to his peace of mind it seems to me 
he might have made the journey himself.” 

200 


FOR OR AGAINST 


‘‘Yes, and have found you with half a hundred 
other men, all bedecked and bedizened in brass buttons 
and gold lace, kowtowing before you. Where would 
my chance have come in down at Annapolis, I’d like 
to know?” 

“Are you so easily daunted by rivals. That’s a 
pity, because I should hate to sign a contract with a 
person who could not hold his own against all comers. 
The man who induces me to set my sign and seal to 
such a document has got to be a pretty good showing 
of a man, believe me. Hart. And he’s not going to 
tricTc me into any such contract either. He may force 
me, by the power of his stronger will and character, 
and I’ll respect him for his ability to do so, but I’ll 
despise him if he resorts to subterfuge. But here’s 
Newark. Help me get my things together. We’ll be 
in Jersey City in just a few minutes.” 

“But Con,” began her escort. 

Constance turned upon him in indignation. 

“Hart, listen to me. You’ve done and said just a 
shade too much already. If you do not wish to make 
me say something which we may both regret, don’t 
speak another word — now. I’m tired from my journey 
and unnerved from the anxiety of the past twenty-four 
hours. I wish to get home as quickly as possible.” 

The change from the Pennsylvania train to the one 
for Montgentian was made almost in silence. 

The ensuing two weeks were busy ones for Constance. 
Polly convalesced rapidly, but the older sister found 
a hundred duties ready to be taken up. Mrs. Howland, 
SOI 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


never very robust, felt the reaction of the nursing and 
worry, and was glad of Constance’s clear head and 
young vigor in the domestic cares, for Gail was in high 
school preparing for college, and found very little 
leisure. 

One morning Constance was in her room answering 
some business letters for her mother. When she had 
completed the task she took up two which had come in 
the morning mail. One was from Clint, the other from 
Snap. The former had written frequently since her 
return to Montgentian: letters full of the doings in 
Annapolis, and the bits of personal news which he 
knew would most interest her — jolly, chummy letters, 
well suited to cheer her during her first somewhat 
anxious days at home, and later, as he learned that 
all progressed well, full of a quaint humor, yet always, 
beneath the humor was the deep, earnest regard which 
was daily forming a stronger, more absorbing element 
in his life. He urged her early return because she “left 
such a big hole where she had been,” her ‘Misplacement 
being out of all proportion to her tonnage and abso- 
lutely defying all rules of mathematics.” 

But no written word of the aifectiori she felt to run 
through each letter as quicksilver through its chan- 
nels. Clint wished to speak the words instead of 
write them. He wanted the girl beside him when 
that moment came. He must see her expressive face, 
the dark eyes, the soft rose-leaf complexion. The play 
of the light and shade across her features. How often 
he pictured it all, but paused when It came to the 
202 


FOR OR AGAINST 


answer she would give him. He knew she was a loyal 
friend, but never by look or glance had she led him 
to believe that he could be more than friend to her. 
Time must decide that. He would wait. And in her, 
letters in reply to his, Constance had held to the same 
tone. 

Snap had written twice during the past two weeks, 
and what a contrast to Clint’s letters his were. Con- 
stance had read those two letters more than once, and 
upon each reading had felt as one feels in the vortex of 
an electrical storm. Each time she read them she did 
so with the intention of destroying them and ridding 
herself at once and for all time of their disturbing in- 
fluence. Yet each time the letters were refolded and 
replaced in her desk. She had never answered them. 

And before her lay a third. In spite of herself a 
strange little quiver passed over her as she broke the 
seal. 

It began : 


‘‘Deae Constance: 

“What is the use of masquerading with the formal 
‘Miss Howland’.? I’m no sort of use at chucking a 
bluff where I’m in dead earnest, and I’m not going to 
try it. I’d make it a good sight stronger if I dared, 
but I don’t and that’s some admission too. More than 
you guess, maybe. But I doTbt dare. You’ve got me 
tamed, little girl. I’m ready to eat out of your hand. 
I said I was going to make you trust and believe in me 
and I am. It may take time but it’s going to be done, 
and I’m going to do more than that too. 

203 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


“I know how you’ve sized me up, both from things 
you’ve seen and things you’ve heard, but just give me 
the benefit of some doubt, will you? 

“It all looks pretty shady, as I know better than 
anyone else, but don’t forget that the darkest parts of 
a film print the lightest. When you come back, — and 
do for the Lord’s sake come pretty quick, or I’ll be 
reported absent without leave, — I shall have a few 
things to say to you, and I think you are square enough 
to listen, knowing that one side of a story sounds O. K. 
until the other side is told. I want a chance to tell the 
other. Won’t you write to me? If it’s only a comic 
postal you’ll have to sign it somehow. 

“More faithfully than you’ll believe, 

“Snap.” 

Constance sat for some time in deep thought. She 
knew Snap was right. There were two sides to every 
story. Had she been too severe? There were many 
men, as she well understood, whose lives would bear no 
closer inspection than Snap’s. Perhaps not as close 
if the ?rutH were known. Was she setting herself in 
judgment over the opinions of those who Had known 
him far longer than she had? Her aunt was very fond 
of Snap, and there was certainly a close bond of affec- 
tion and sympathy between them: closer even than be- 
tween her and Clint. She never thought of Snap with- 
out recalling some one of his many little affectionate 
acts toward Mrs. Harold and his unceasing attentions 
to her. 

Well, it could do no harm to write a friendly note 

204 


FOR OR AGAINST 


and thank him for his kind inquiries for Polly’s health. 
She reached forward for an envelope and sheet of paper 
and in so doing dislodged a package of letters which 
had waited many a day for answers. The package fell 
upon the desk, the rubber band holding it broke, the 
letters scattered in every direction. 

“The tormenting things!” she cried, gathering them 
up. Then a slight exclamation escaped her: Among 
them was the very letter which she had taken from the 
bell-boy that afternoon in Middies’ Haven when Hart’s 
letter had arrived. It had never been opened, but in 
the hurry of her departure had been gathered up with 
several others and placed in her trunk. Constance ran 
her paper-cutter through the seal. The envelope con- 
tained two letters. One in a feminine hand, the other 
in a masculine one which she at once recognized. Puz- 
zled, but still believing them to be intended for her, 
she read the man’s note, her cheeks crimsoning as she 
read. It ran: 

“Siren of My Heart: 

“My time, as well as my heart, are yours! Need I 
assure you of a fact so patent.? ‘One of our dear, de- 
lightful hours.?’ Surely. Why not.? The soft light of 
the lamp, the blazing logs, the gentle voice murmuring 
tender epithets, and — but why complete the picture.? 
You and I know it too well. 

“Yours until you weary of me, H.” 

The letter bore no date. Constance did not read 
the other. She had recognized the writing of that also. 

a05 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


With cheeks still burning she wrote her note to Snap, 
inclosed the two letters and addressed the envelope. 
The night mail carried the letter from Montgentian 
and the mail orderly on duty in Bancroft Hall the fol- 
lowing evening did the rest. 


Chapter XVI 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 

Since the unpleasant occurrence just before Christ- 
mas week began, Clint had seen very little of either 
Ned or Billy and their resentment had grown rather 
than lessened. One night soon after Constance left An- 
napolis, as Clint returned to his room after inspecting 
his company, the whole situation began to spread itself 
before him. He knew that neither of them was pre- 
pared to meet the test of semi-ans successfully. In 
Ned’s behalf, his sympathies were none too keen. Every 
chance had been given him, but, from indifference, 
inertia or Katherine, he had let them slip by, while the 
chief cause of Billy’s shortcomings was his unfailing 
good nature and readiness to drop everything for the 
sake of his friends. Hence the situation now confront- 
ing him and the certainty of bilging unless miracles 
happened. 

“And it will be a confounded shame if he does,” 
thought Clint. 

Hill had turned in but Clint sat down to write a letter 
to Constance. In Billy’s room just overhead there were 
indications recognizable by the initiated only, that at 
taps he had not “laid him down to pleasant dreams”. 
A few moments later Clint was in Billy’s room. 

207 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘Well?” was Billy’s greeting. 

“Is it?” 

“What difference does it make to you?” was the 
defiant answer. “Are you here as my superior officer 
or as my — ^well, what are you here for?” 

“Quit the heroics and come down to sense. You 
can answer the first question yourself. Now, suppose 
you answer one or two more. What is the outlook and 
what are your chances?” 

“The outlook is foggy and the chances pretty 
damned bad. Does it make you any happier to know 
it.?” 

“Then get busy,” was Clint’s terse rejoinder. “I’m 
up here to do the same. Quit talking. Time’s val- 
uable.” 

When Clint slipped back to his room at midnight 
Billy Crosby’s brain cells held a few impressions re- 
garding navigation which were likely to bide in them 
indefinitely, and in his examinations on that subject 
the following day those impressions served a good turn. 
Then came a note from Mrs. Waltham, asking Clint 
to take one of her guests to the coming hop. On the 
following Monday Billy’s stiffest exam, the one most 
likely to decide his fate, was to take place, and Clint 
knew perfectly well that once high pressure was re- 
moved, the mercurial William, left to himself at the 
crucial moment, would go sky-high — exams along with 
him. Still, to refuse Mrs. Waltham’s evident peace 
overture, for she had held pretty severely aloof from 
Clint since Christmas, would only complicate matters 
208 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 


more. But could he not serve her more materially and 
permanently by pulling her nephew out of the hole 
into which he had plunged headlong? 

His note of refusal made that quick-tempered lady 
furious. It ran : 

‘‘Dear Mrs. Waltham: 

“I would be delighted to oblige you, as you know, 
but I have an engagement for next Saturday evening 
which it will be impossible for me to break. Will you 
let me ask Hill to take Miss Ross for you? 

“Always sincerely yours, “Clinton Wayne.” 

Perhaps nothing more was needed to irritate Mrs. 
Waltham, but something more developed, nevertheless. 
She had planned her party for the evening hop, 
when a note came' from Katherine saying that she 
and Anna had been asked to go to it by two of the 
men, manifestly not Billy or Ned in this instance, and 
“would Mrs. Waltham just give them one little twig 
of her roof-tree to perch upon”? She was always so 
“dear and sweet,” etc., etc., ad infinitum. 

Now, it so happened that Reuben Rastus had let 
drop a hint or two to his mistress regarding the late 
return of Katherine and Anna one memorable night, 
and Mrs. Waltham being a wise woman had needed no 
further enlightenment. She also had a pretty clear idea 
of the state of things over in Bancroft. Hence no 
invitation for this hop had been sent to the cause of 
it, much to the cause’s surprise. In due time the fol- 
lowing polite note reached Katherine: 

S09 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘My Dear Katherine: 

“I’m afraid your boundless faith in me and the un- 
limited number of twigs of my roof-tree must receive 
a shock this time, for every twig has its percher for 
the present occasion. But isn’t roof-tree a misnomer? 
You should have said my aviary in which I shelter my 
birds, both wild and tame. Those now in it are all of 
the tame variety, but lest even these escape and get 
themselves and others into trouble, I’ve had all the 
latches on my cage doors hooked and feel sure that in 
the future none will spring open at unseemly hours. 

“Always sincerely yours, 

“Isabel Winton Waltham.” 

“And so she has been prying, has she? Well, there’s 
just one person in this world who could have learned 
anything about that night’s fun, and only one source 
from which she could have learned it ; but if she thinks 
she has put an end to my visits in Annapolis, she’s 
mighty mistaken. I’ll carry the war into the enemy’s 
country and get even with that little simpleton if it 
takes the last grain of wit I possess,” was Katherine’s 
enraged outburst. 

But time was growing short. Mrs. Waltham’s letter 
did not reach Katherine until Friday evening. To 
hope to get a message to Annapolis and receive a 
reply unless she ’phoned was out of the question, and 
Katherine was not wasting her substance on ’phone 
messages between Philadelphia and Crabtown. No, 
there were other ways and means. Saturday afternoon 
Mrs. Harold’s telephone rang. Two ladies were in the 


^10 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 


reception-room. Mrs. Harold descended to be effusively 
greeted by Katherine and Anna. 

“Oh, dear Mrs. Harold, are you quite well and 
strong again? We didn’t get your reply, but we told 
mamma we knew it would be all right — you are always 
so dear and so ready to do anything for us all. Nan 
wanted to wait for the next train in order to be sure 
of your letter, but I persuaded her to come right along 
with me. When did my letter reach you?” 

If Katherine had decided that Mrs. Harold was as 
unsuspicious and guileless as a child, she had sadly 
miscalculated. 

Mrs. Harold was frank, cheery, warm-hearted, un- 
suspicious, but she was far from being a fool and had 
lived in this big world quite long enough to size up her 
fellow-beings pretty accurately, though sufficiently gen- 
erous and broadminded to believe a man honest until 
she proved him a thief. 

“And here we are, you see,” tittered Anna. “And 
you will chaperon us anyway, even if we didn’t wait 
for your letter, won’t you, Mrs. Harold? I’ll just cry 
my eyes out if you say ^no% for I’ve such a love of a 
gown. I had it made on purpose to make Billy wild 
with jealousy. The horrid boy! not even to ask me 
down for this hop. But he needn’t think he is the only 
one on earth.” 

During this avalanche of words Mrs. Harold stood 
like a lay figure, the expression upon her usually sunny 
face a cross between amusement and indignation. When 
a pause gave her an opportunity she said: 

^11 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


“Suppose we sit down,” and motioning the girls to 
the chairs from which they had risen, she took one 
where she had the advantage of the light behind her 
as she said calmly: 

‘T am not surprised that you did not receive a letter 

from me because I’ve not written one ” 

“Oh— h!” 

“Nor have I received any from you, Katherine. 
Mrs. Waltham did. I was there when it came. Did 
you send both by the same mail? There would hardly 
have been time to write a second and get a reply from 

me. And — wait just a moment ” as Katherine, with 

well-assumed surprise, attempted to interrupt — “if I 
had heard from you I should have wired to you at 
once, for I am leaving for Washington this afternoon 
to spend the week-end. It is very unfortunate, but a 
’phone or wire would have been a little safer, don’t 
you think so? Still, I will see what I can do for you 
since you are here on such short notice. Perhaps Mrs. 
Stockton will chaperon you. I will go and ask her. 
Excuse me a moment,” and rising from her chair Mrs. 
Harold moved away with a quiet dignity and a little 
air which those who knew her best said indicated the 
motto, “Don’t tread on me”. 

“She’ll never do it. I know she never will, and 
you’ve got me into a fine scrape. Oh, why did I come,” 
half sobbed Anna, turning to look out of the window. 

“Be still, you little simpleton!” snapped Katherine 
warningly. “Do you want others to hear you? She’s 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 


got to find someone for us since we’re here. I knew 
that when we started.” 

‘Tf you only really had written,” deplored Anna. 

If you ddve breathe that, I’ll — I’ll — never forgive 
you and in future you may get down here as best 
you can. Now hush, for here she comes. Oh, I’m so 
sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Harold. Those stupid 
mails ; if I’d had the slightest idea ” 

"‘Well, I’m sorry to tell you that Mrs. Stockton has 
already five guests to claim her time to-night and is 
giving a dinner for them. So that source has failed 
and I’m afraid I cannot ask any one else. It is too 
late. You can’t ’phone to the men, either. Did they 
expect to meet you here.?” 

“No, they didn’t, know we were coming,” answered 
Katherine, for once outwitted and falling into a trap. 

“Oh, then, you did not have it quite all arranged 
anyway,” smiled Mrs. Harold. “Little girl, take a 
word of advice from an older woman. Next time be 
a little surer of your ground before you leap and 
don’t try to carry anyone else with you. Now, there 
is just one thing for you to do under the circum- 
stances; I can’t possibly chaperon you, nor can Mrs. 
Stockton, — we would do so if we could — and if you 
had arranged your plans a little more wisely. You 
must return to Philadelphia by the four o’clock train. 

It is hard, and I am sorry, but ” and Mrs. Harold 

paused. 

“Yes, I suppose you are right,” answered Kathe- 

213 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


rine with surprising meekness. “We will go right up to 
the station now ” 

“But our suitcases,” interrupted Anna. She got no 
further, for at that instant Katherine’s ankle turned 
and she nearly fell. 

“Won’t you come up to Middies’ Haven for a cup 
of tea before you go?” said Mrs. Harold, sorry in 
spite of herself for the schemer before her. 

“Oh, no, I think not ; thank you so much. But — ^but 
we feel so lost, you know, under the circumstances. We 
would better go right back.” 

“I am sorry. I would help you if I could, but in an 
hour I leave. Good-bye,” and Mrs. Harold rose and 
left them. 

“And does that hateful old cat think she can man- 
age me like this? Well, I guess not° Come to the 
office.” 

“Oh, what are you going to do?” quavered Anna. 

“Engage a room, send messages to Dimples and 
Georgie, have them out here to dine and go to that 
hopT* declared Katherine. 

“Oh, we mustn’t. You can’t afford it. What would 
your mother and mamma say?” protested Anna under 
her breath. 

“Hush, do as I tell you. If I can’t afford it, you 
can, and do you think I’ve come down here just to go 
back again? What do you take me for? Your mother 
and mine both believe we are here on Mrs. Harold’s 
invitation, and what they don’t know won’t trouble 
them.” 


214 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 


Everything worked to a charm until the girls went 
to their rooms to dress. Then consternation filled 
their hearts. Upon opening their suitcases they be- 
held — two dress suits, several collars, many white ties, 
some white gloves, and two suits of pajamas. 

It was eight o^clock and their escorts were fuming, 
to say nothing of the men in 173 who had opened their 
suitcases to find them filled with feminine attire. Before 
their several properties were located and restored to 
their rightful owners nine-thirty had struck. 

That hop left considerable to be desired and poor 
Anna went to sleep in tears, the result of a final and 
tempestuous lecture for having clambered up to 471 
at midnight minus their room key, which she had car- 
ried to the hop and given to her escort to put in his 
pocket for her, thereby necessitating the descent of her 
evil genius to the office long past midnight to make 
several rather inconvenient explanations. 

The following afternoon two young women returned 
to Philadelphia — one much chastened in spirit, the 
other decidedly in a frame of mind better left unde- 
scribed. 

On the Monday following Billy Crosby took his 
exam, and passed with a 3-1, thanks to the persistent 
prodding of Clint. 

The following Saturday Snap dropped into Mrs. 
Waltham’s. When he left an hour later she had learned 
of Billy’s achievement and one or two other potent 
facts regarding Clint’s absence from the hop Saturday 
evening. 


215 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


From Mrs. Waltham’s he went upon his way to 
Wilmot Hall, where, in the basement, a New York 
tailor, who makes uniforms and civilian clothing for 
the officers and midshipmen, had opened his rooms. As 
Snap would graduate in less than five months he, in 
common with all his classmates, was ordering his 
^‘trousseau,” as they all jokingly called it. In many 
cases it proved. Indeed, a trousseau. 

In earlier days, that is prior to 1913, the men were 
obliged to serve two years sea-duty as passed midship- 
men before receiving their commissions as ensigns. 
During that service they were not permitted to marry 
without special permission from the Secretary of the 
Navy. Hence the joke regarding trousseaus. 

Nevertheless, graduation from the Academy called 
for an entire new outfit and a very expensive one too. 

As Snap walked toward Wilmot Hall his thoughts 
were many miles from King George Street and An- 
napolis, and the dark eyes saw a very different type 
of woman from the one at that moment drawing near 
him. His first intimation of Mrs. Cardine’s presence 
were her low spoken words: 

“So you would walk right by me without a word? 
And I suppose I should have hardly expected to see you 
at my tea last Saturday since the lady of your heart 
was not receiving with me.” The laugh and glance 
which accompanied the words were irritating to a 
degree. Snap returned them with a look which ought 
to have warned her to keep within bounds. Then ignor- 
ing her remark, he said: 


316 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 


“You turned out a finished product in me, didn’t 
you, Corinne? Well, I thank you, and you must feel 
gratified. Only, let young Islington alone, or I’ll put 
him wise to a few things. He’s one of the best kids 
that’s ever come into the Academy and one of the 
straightest.” 

The boy referred to was a plebe about nineteen. A 
fine lad, but as unsophisticated as a school-girl. He 
was a big, handsome fellow, and since she had found 
Snap’s attentions falling off, Mrs. Cardine had at- 
tached Islington. Already the gossips were busy, 
though, to his credit, be it said, young Islington was 
not alive to Mrs. Cardine’s true character. He found 
in her, as at first Snap had found, a most entertaining 
companion, and her home a delightful place to visit. 

At Snap’s words Mrs. Cardine’s face hardened and 
she asked: 

“Who constituted you my mentor, you presumptu- 
ous boy.f^ I shall entertain whomsoever I choose to. 
Save your advice for your little doll playmate. When 
do you expect her to return, by the way.? I don’t 
doubt it’s a case of a letter each day as ours used to 
be.” 

“As yours used to be, you mean. If I’ve one thing 
to be thankful for it’s the fact that I answered precious 
few of them. Lord, how could I have been the fool I 
was !” he broke off. 

The woman before him flushed, then she laughed 
again unpleasantly. 

“Thank you,” she said, “but there were one or two 

^17 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


gems which I have treasured. It’s really a shame to 
destroy such specimens of the tender art of love- 
making.” 

“You’re welcome to any I ever wrote you. They 
had one advantage: They taught me the difference be- 
tween the real and the counterfeit article. But let 
Islington alone. Now, I’m in dead earnest there. He’s 
in my company and I won’t have him made a fool of.” 

A sneer was his only answer as Mrs. Cardine went 
upon her way. 

Constance had now been absent two weeks. Snap 
had not heard from her. He had not expected to, 
though he would have given half he ever hoped to 
possess for six lines in the handwriting he so often 
saw at Mrs. Harold’s, and had more than once caught 
glimpses of in Clint’s room. He knew she wrote to 
Clint, though neither man ever alluded to it. 

Enraged as it is only given to men of his tempera- 
ment to become, he strode on to IVilmot Hall, saw his 
tailor, and then started directly back to quarters with- 
out going to see Mrs. Harold as was his custom, for 
rarely an afternoon now passed without a visit paid 
to the room where there were so many reminders of 
the girl who had grown so dear to him. 

As he was striding along through the yard he over- 
took Billy Crosby. Billy was rather forlorn these 
days too, though for entirely different reasons. He 
and Nan had been at outs ever since Billy had failed 
to invite her to the hop to which she and Katherine 
had gone minus the trifling consideration of a chaperon. 

218 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 


Snap slowed down to walk with the disconsolate one, 
and smiled in spite of himself at the woe-begone coun- 
tenance. 

“How’s little Miss Baa-baa, Bill?” he asked. 

“Ah-h !” was the disgusted rej oinder. 

“Now look here, Billy, I’m afraid you’re not doing' 
the square thing there, are you?” asked Snap with as-j 
sumed concern. 

“Well, what in thunder is a man going to do when'^a' 
girl gets mad and won’t answer his letters? She’s^ 
staying with Katherine while Mrs. Ashton’s up in 
Boston and she won’t write, so she can go to — to ” 

“Whoa! Go slow. At Mrs. Bell’s, is she? Perhaps 
I can see further through a wall than you can, my 
boy,” remarked Snap. 

“What do you mean?” demanded Billy, stopping as 
they ascended the steps of Bancroft to look into Snap’s 
impassive face. 

“I mean you are a kid, and I mean I’ve no sort of 
use for that girl ” 

“Who — Nan?” snapped Billy, loyal after all, when 
his divinity was assailed. 

“No, the other one who’s running her — ^working her 
for all she’s worth, and that’s considerable, if rumor 
can be relied upon. See here. Bill, Nan’s all right; 
just a little light aloft, but will find herself if she’s 
handled right. You may not be the one to handle her — 
I can’t tell that — but don’t you go fooling with her. 
She may be a little fool sometimes, but from my obser- 
vations, she’s no worse, and it’s up to you to do the 
219 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


square thing,” ended Snap with a nod, as though in 
dead earnest. 

“Huh! huh!” bridled Billy. “If you’re so struck, 
why don’t you do the grand fussing act yourself?” 

“Otherwise engaged. When I want the real thing 
I don’t expect to borrow Lou’s perambulator to wheel 
it to the church door.” 

“Engaged! You engaged? Who’s the girl?” 

A short laugh as they separated was all the satisfac- 
tion Billy got, as Snap advised: “Time for supper 
formation. Better hike for it, son. Maybe you’ll 
learn the lady’s name some day. So long.” 

“Wonder if that’s straight goods?” mused Billy as 
he made his way to the fourth deck. “Nan is pretty 
nice and I’ve known her since we were kids too. She 
does like me, I believe. Huh ! Funny how a fellow can 
switch around. Wonder if girls do too? Guess I’ll 
make another try after supper. Let’s see — how many 
times have I proposed to that girl, anyway? Gee, I’ve 
lost count. If she won’t be engaged, why doesn’t she 
throw me down for good and all, I wmnder. Girls are 
queer. Wish she wasn’t so darned rich, though. Hate 
a rich girl. Don’t suppose we’d go on crusts on my 
income, but thunder, her’s means Patte de foie gras on 
tap. Guess Snap’s right, though. I’ll write again to- 
night,” and the monologue ended as he entered 447. 

The sequel was a long effusion calculated to melt the 
most adamantine heart. It was signed, sealed and 
stamped and dropped down the mail chute. Then the 
writer sat down to reckon the hours which must elapse 
S20 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 


before an answer could reach him, and as he thought 
visions of a tall stately girl whom he had met at the 
last hop rose before him, and his fingers drummed 
irritatingly upon the table in front of him. 

‘‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, quit or clear out !” cried 
his exasperated roommate, who was hard at work, a 
line of conduct Billy might have followed to his own 
advantage. 

“Where are the telegraph blanks?” 

“Don’t know and don’t care a whoop. Shut up!” 
was the exasperated reply. 

Billy rose from his chair, prowled around until he 
unearthed the blanks. Fifteen minutes later he had 
sent the following telegram: 

“Letter on way. Don’t open. Return to me. Made 
a mistake. Billy.” 

“Guess I did too. You can’t most always sometimes 
tell. I like a girl that can run a fellow,” and Billy 
turned in. 

And down in 267? 

Snap did not go to his room till after supper. It 
was dark when he entered the study. Fay was absent. 
Snap switched on the electric light. Upon the study- 
table lay several letters, one bearing the Montgentian 
postmark. With a sharply drawn breath he caught 
it up and went into his bedroom. A second later three 
letters tumbled upon his bed. He caught up the one 
in Constance’s handwriting. 

221 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


“My Dear Mr. Hunter: 

“Perhaps the inclosed letters, which, as you can 
readily see, came into my possession by accident (?) 
are the best answer I can make to yours just received. 
They will give you a very accurate idea of how I have 
‘sized you up,’ for I regret to state that I read the 
one in your own handwriting before I fully realized 
that it was not a peculiar form of joke and intended 
for me. 

“Thanking you for your kind inquiry for my sister, 
who is nearly recovered, I am, 

“Very tr-dy yours, 

“Constance Drake Howland.” 

Snap caught up the other letters, his face black as a 
thundercloud. He instantly recognized his own, and 
laughed scornfully as he read it. How well he recalled 
the day he wrote it, and the date kept the same evening. 

Then he took up the other. It bore the date of the 
invitations sent out for Mrs. Cardine’s tea. It was her 
invitation to him, though hardly couched in the same 
words her other invitations had been. He saw through 
it all in an instant. She had intentionally placed the 
invitations in the wrong envelopes, slipping his old 
letter in as though by accident. 

“But by all the gods. I’ll wager my life Constance 
Howland never read a single line of this one. She’s too 
white to have done it. But this other fool thing was 
enough. Curse that woman for her schemes. But she’s 
out of her reckoning this time unless I’m much mis- 
taken,” he raged as he crushed the letter back 
in its envelope. 


SCHEMES AND COUNTER-SCHEMES 


Then with an expression upon his fine face which 
any woman might have blushed to summon there he 
read the second letter: 

“Dearest H. : 

“You’ll be sure to come to my tea on the — th, won’t 
you? Why are you so cold to me now, darling? You 
are breaking my heart. Is it real or only assumed? 
You are such a clever actor. 

“But this is folly upon my part. Of course I see 
through it all, I know you so well. You will amuse 
yourself, though you always come back to the one who 
has never cared a straw for any other man. 

“Play with your doll, dear, and have a merry time, 
then come and tell me all about it, as you’ve done 
dozens of times before. “Devotedly, C.” 

Snap folded this letter and put it in his pocket, then 
turning strode from the room just as Fay was enter- 
ing. 

“Hello! What’s your rush? Where away?” 

“To the devil!” answered Snap as he swung down 
the corridor. 

“Whew! What’s up now, I wonder?” commented 
Fay. 

There was no hop that Saturday night, though nine- 
thirty liberty for all upper classmen. 

Ten minutes later Snap stood in Mrs. Cardine’s liv- 
ing-room. When he left it at nine-thirty that lady had 
heard a few very frank, tersely-expressed views re- 
garding the course she was pursuing, and the next mail 
out of Bancroft Hall carried to Constance Howland a 
letter which caused her to think long and seriously. 
22S 


Chapter XVII 


BACK TO WILMOT HALE 

It had been definitely settled that Constance should 
return to Annapolis in April in order to be there for 
the spring athletics. Spring comes early to Mary- 
land, and early in April the perennials were all a-grow- 
ing and a-blooming in Annapolis while out in the 
woods and fields beyond the old town wild flowers and 
trees were in full blossom, while hundreds of birds filled 
the world with their melody, for Maryland is the half- 
way house for these feathered tourists who foregather 
there from all through the south during their migratory 
season. 

Mrs. Harold was as eager as a girl for Constance’s 
return, and counted the days which must elapse before 
the one set for the journey. 

The afternoon before that upon which Constance 
was expected. Snap went over to Middies’ Haven. Sev- 
eral men, Clint among them, were leaving as he entered, 

‘‘Heard any news.?” he asked after he had greeted 
Mrs. Harold. 

“What sort of news.?” she asked whimsically. 

“I’ve got some right here,” answered Snap, smiling 
one of his odd smiles that Mrs. Harold now understood 
so well, and patting the left side of his blouse. 

224 


BACK TO WILMOT HALL 


“In which sense, son?” 

“Both, Little Mother, although for a time I was 
afraid I’d never receive an answer to any of my 
letters.” 

Mrs. Harold nodded and laid her hand upon the 
soft, dark hair, as he sat down beside her. For a mo- 
ment he rested his head against her shoulder, saying 
softly : 

“We need women like you — and her. Somehow I 
don’t believe the great beyond can be sweeter or purer 
than such can make the world for us. It’s a pity we’ve 
got to run up against the other kind.” Then leaning 
back in his chair he said: 

“It seems too good to believe that she will be right 
here in this room inside of twenty-four hours, yet do 
you know I’m half scared to have her come back?” 

“Is it a case of faint heart?” asked Mrs. Harold, 
patting the hand which rested upon the arm of her 
chair. 

“No, it’s not that. If it were a case of pitch in and 
fight for what I want I’d sail in for fair. No, it is — 
what is it?” he demanded, turning to look into her 
face. 

“That which holds every man in check, I think, dear ; 
Reverence for a pure woman.” 

“You’ve hit it. I’ve tried to square myself with 
the little girl, and have sort of halfway succeeded, but 
I want a good talk with her and I mean to have it 
somehow, too, though I’m going to have the dickens 
of a time to get around to it, I’m afraid. Her let- 
2^5 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


ters, — I’ve managed to get two, and that’s something, — 
are as cool and uncompromising as that breeze blow- 
ing outside, though mine might have scorched her 
fingers. She says she is quite well. That she thinks 
her visit down here must have made her immune to all 
maladies.” 

“All?” interrupted Mrs. Harold, placing one finger 
under Snap’s chin and turning his face toward her. 

“Trouble is, I am afraid she won’t catch that one, 
or if she does that she will catch it from the other fellow. 
But I’ll do my best to make it contagious, though I’m 
not by any means out of the wilderness yet, I’m afraid. 
Clint is in the lead now, I know that well enough, and 

” Snap paused and looked out at the blossoming 

world. In an apple-tree just beneath the window a pair 
of orioles were setting up housekeeping. 

“Am I to hear the rest of the sentence, dear?” asked 
Mrs. Harold gently. 

“Do you know what it means to care for someone 
more than you care for yourself?” asked Snap. 

“I think so, son. That is a very crucial test.” 

“Well, then, you’ll understand what I’m going to 
say, but there’s no one else on God’s round world to 
whom I’d say it. That little girl who is coming back 
here holds in her keeping all that is worth a whoop in 
me ; it isn’t much, I’m ready to concede, but such as it 
is she has it. She doesn’t know it, and maybe never 
will, that’s got to be decided later, but I’d give up my 
life for her. Still, if I thought Clint would make her 
happier and she cared more for him, — I’d drop out. 

^26 


BACK TO WILMOT HALL 


Anyway, I shall give him first chance if it kills me to 
do it. She must decide, and I mean that she shall have 
plenty of time to do so too, so there’ll never be any 
regrets later. It must be her happiness sure, and mine 
if possible.” 

‘‘Snap,” was all Mrs. Harold said. 

“Yes. I mean every word I’ve said. I’ve asked her 
to give me a square deal when she comes back, but I 
mean to give her one too. This may seem ‘puppy love’ 
to those on the outside. I hear all that rot from the 
officers, but even puppies have been known to be faith- 
ful.” 

Just then some of the others were heard ascending the 
stairs and Snap rose from his chair beside Mrs. Harold. 

As though in sympathy with the girl returning to 
Wilmot Hall and to those so eagerly awaiting her 
coming that April day was one to dream of. Con- 
stance would arrive at five-thirty. The word had flown 
like an electric message through “the family,” as the 
men who were so often at Mrs. Harold’s were called. 
At five o’clock Clint, Snap, Hill and Fay were gath- 
ered in Middies’ Haven to accompany its mistress to 
the B. & O. Station — a merry, rollicking bodyguard. 

Mrs. Harold was as eager as a girl, as she set forth, 
“convoyed on starboard and port” by Snap and Clint 
and “fore and aft” by the others. The two men with 
her were more quiet than the rest. The girl, each mo- 
ment drawing nearer and nearer Annapolis, had in her 
keeping more of their future happiness than she 
227 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


dreamed, notwithstanding the letters which had passed 
to and fro during the time she spent in Montgentian. 

As she journeyed toward Annapolis Constance’s 
thoughts were in a more or less chaotic state. During 
her two months at home Clint had written regularly, 
and even though she felt distinctly the undercurrent 
of the strong sentiment which they contained, there 
was no written word of his affection for her. 

Snap’s, on the other hand, had, as he had told Mrs. 
Harold, been of a nature to scorch. After the receipt 
of Constance’s note with Mrs. Cardine’s inclosed he had 
made a clean breast of the whole situation and demanded 
‘‘a square deal” upon her return to Annapolis. Just what 
he would consider a square deal Constance was some- 
what in doubt. There seemed little left to explain to 

her by way of his vindication. So She dropped 

her conjectures at this point and let her thoughts re- 
vert to Hart. She knew her mother’s feelings where 
he was concerned. She had known Hart from child- 
hood, his home was in their own town, his prospects 
more than ordinary. But her mother had seen so little 
of other men. Hart had to a great extent monopolized 
Constance prior to her visit to Annapolis. In short, 
entirely too much had been taken for granted in every 
way. Still, if her mother approved, — ^nay, if her 
wishes swayed so strongly toward this old chum, was 
it not her duty to think seriously before she spoke 
the final “No”.? Hart could, and would gladly, do so 
much for her mother, and was so fond of Gail and 
Polly. It had been hard to hold to her first resolu- 
228 


BACK TO WILMOT HALL 


tion and tell him that she would wait until her return 
from this second visit before giving him his final an- 
swer, and Hart had chafed under the sting of hope 
deferred. She was a-quiver with excitement as the train 
neared Annapolis. 

As it rolled into the station the group awaiting her 
crowded toward it, as she stood upon the platform of 
her car grasping her suitcase. As the train stopped, 
off came each man’s cap and a ‘‘Four N Yell”, end- 
ing with “Navy Girl”, testified to Constance’s welcome 
and startled her more staid and dignified fellow-passen- 
gers. A mad rush ensued, but Snap’s hand was the first 
to clasp Constance’s and take her suitcase, and it was 
Snap who made way for her to fly into Mrs. Harold’s 
outstretched arms. 

But it was Clint who walked by Constance’s side on 
the way to Wilmot Hall, and Snap with Mrs. Harold, 
the others crowding, jostling, laughing, joking and 
running each other. In the confusion Mrs. Harold 
asked : 

“How did you happen to let him have that place, 
son?” 

A significant look and smile passed like a flash across 
Snap’s face as he replied in a low voice: 

“I can’t give him all, but I could not take that 
pleasure away, for perhaps I shall have to take so much 
more later.” 

“Are you so sure, dear?” 

“I’m not sure of anything until I’ve had a chance 
to talk with her. Maybe I’ll never have a second 
S29 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


talk, but I shall make the most of the first if I get it, 
and I’ll never give up until I know it to be best for her.” 

There was very little time left after reaching Wilmot 
Hall, for the men had to return to Bancroft for dinner 
formation. 

“Oh, but it’s good, good to have you back again ! I 
did not know how big a place you filled over here until 
you slipped out of it so many weeks ago,” said Clint, 
as he bade Constance good-night. “If I can help it 
you will never go again — for so long.” The girl col- 
ored and turned to say good-night to the others. 

“Mind you are all here the moment you are free 
to-morrow,” she cried as they hurried off. “We’re to 
have a great and glorious celebration. So be on hand.” 

“You bet we’ll be on deck, and it’s mighty good to 
have you back!” were the words echoing back through 
the corridor, to be drowned in a prolonged crash as 
though someone had pitched headforemost down the 
stairs. 

“Oh, somebody has fallen from the top to the bottom 
of the stairs !” cried Constance, running into the cor- 
ridor. 

“Rise one!” was jeeringly shouted back by the 
wearer of a buzzard. “Thought you were wise to all 
our little ways.” 

At three-forty-five the following afternoon Middies’ 
Haven swarmed as a hive. The kettle sang, the feast 
was spread, and pinned upon a huge red bandanna 
handkerchief fastened upon the wall and known as “the 
Bulletin Board”, was an astonishing jingle written by 
230 


BACK TO WILMOT HALL 


one of Constance’s girl friends who had learned more 
of Academy ways from Constance than falls to the lot 
of the average novice. Constance had also brought 
with her as earnest of good faith and friendship, a 
five-pound box of home-made fudge and pralines. Fay, 
into whose savvy head facts and fiction had a trick of 
creeping, there to “bide forever and a day”, was de- 
voted to Lewis Carrol’s nonsense rhymes, consequently 
the parody on the “Walrus” pleased him mightily, 
and it was with unwonted glee that he read for the 
benefit of those assembled: 

“The sun was shining on the Yard, 

Shining with all his might; 

He did his very best to make 

The walls look clean and bright — 

And this was odd, because it was 
The middle of the night. 

A ‘Perfect Peach’ with friend so tall, 

Was walking out just then; 

They smiled like anything to see 
Such quantities of men — 

‘If they would only walk this way 
We’d smile and smile again.’ 

‘If shy young maids with cups of tea 
Eyed them for half a year. 

Do you suppose,’ said ‘Perfect Peach,’ 

‘That they would run with fear.?’ 

‘I doubt it,’ said the friend so tall, 

J ‘I really doubt, my dear.’ 


231 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘Oh, Middies, come drink tea with me !’ 

The ‘Perfect Peach’ did call, 

‘We’ve lots of sweets and other eats 
And dancing down the hall — 

We cannot give you tipsy ice. 

But there are lemons for you alU 

The biggest Red Mike looked at her, 

But never a word he said; 

The biggest Red Mike winked his eye 
And shook his brainy head — 

And thus implied he'd never go 
Where ‘gold bricks’ drank and fed. 

But four young Middies hurried up 
All eager for the treat — 

Their coats were brushed, their chins were 
shaved. 

Their shoes were blacked and neat — 

And this was odd because, you know, 

Thick mud was in the street. 

Four other Middies followed them. 

And yet another four; 

And thick and fast they came at last 
And more and more and more — 

Some blushing a most frightful red — 
Though, goodness knows, why for. 

Then ‘Perfect Peach’ with friend so tall 
To Wilmot Hall did go. 

And there they rested on a trunk 
Conveniently low. 

And all the gallant Middies stood 
And waited in a row. 


232 


BACK TO WILMOT HALL 


‘The time has come,’ said ‘Perfect Peach,’ 
‘To talk of many things; 

Of regs — and ‘rates’ and getting ‘ragged’ 
Of Holy Joe — and rings; 

And why a Middie hates to eat 
And whether ‘Ernie’ sings. 

‘But wait a bit,’ the Middies cried, 
‘Before we have our chat; 

For all of us are out of breath 
And one of us is fat.’ 

‘No hurry,’ said the friend so tall — 

They thanked her much for that: 

‘A box of fudge,’ said ‘Perfect Peach,’ 
‘Is what we chiefly need; 

A box of pills — a doctor, too. 

Are very good indeed. 

Now if you’re ready. Middies brave. 

We can begin to feed.’ 

‘It seems a shame,’ said ‘Perfect Peach,’ 
‘To play them such a trick 

After we’ve made them climb two flights 
And made them run so quick.’ 

The friend so tall said quietly, 

‘Hand them another brick.’ 

‘I weep for you,’ said ‘Perfect Peach,’ 

‘I deeply sympathize.’ 

She passed again the box of fudge. 

Not heeding Middies’ cries ; 

Not caring for the soulful glance 
Darting from Middies’ eyes. 


233 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘O, Middies !’ said the friend so tall, 

‘You’ve had just heaps of fun. 

Shall we not pass the fudge again.?’ 

But answer came, there’s none. 

And this was scarcely odd because 
They’d fainted, everyone.” 

— G. F. 

In the midst of the merriment Ned and Billy, who 
had in a measure been restored to grace and favor, 
came hurrying in. 

“Hello, Constance; great to have you back again. 
Dead slow without you. Get out of the way, Clint. I 
want to talk to my old friend,” cried Billy, as he 
pranced across the room in a regular sailor’s horn- 
pipe fashion, hands in his non-reg pockets and head 
cocked at a fetching angle. 

“Yes, we’re the oldest friends on record,” laughed 
Constance. “I’ve been hearing just heaps about your 
cute doings !” 

“Glad you have. Saves explanations,” answered 
Billy, unabashed and still jigging merrily up and down 
to the tune of some rattling silver in pockets where 
no pockets should have been. 

“Oh, pipe down, Billy, and come to anchor; you’re 
worse than a blue-bottled fly,” cried Clint. 

“Can’t! I’m so happy because Con has come back.?” 

“Don’t bank on that, Constance. It’s his week’s 
allowance. Don’t you hear it jingling in his pockets,” 
cried Hill from the opposite side of the room. “He’s 
got fifty cents — all in dimes.” 


BACK TO WILMOT HALL 


^‘Well, fifty cents is all right if you can’t have fifty 
dollars, isn’t it, Constance? Don’t you like to run 
your hands down into your pants pockets and feel the 
silver jingle?” 

“Oh, have some fudge, do,” interrupted Constance, 
darting away for the box which she handed to Billy 
and then made her escape to the window to regain her 
self-control. 

As the nonsense flashed back and forth between the 
men. Snap had contrived to slip over to Constance’s 
side. There had been an undercurrent of unrest in 
his heart from the moment the girl stepped off the 
train. Her greeting to him had been as kindly as ever, 
but he was aware of some indefinable change in her. 
Perhaps none of the others excepting Clint observed 
Snap’s move, for all were too busy with the pleasure of 
the moment to pay any special attention to him. 

She was looking over into the yard when Snap came 
up behind her and said softly: 

“It is good to have you back with us, Constance. We 
have missed you more than you’ll believe, and the days 
to me, anyway, have been long ones. Thank you for 
your letter hut ” and he paused significantly. 

Constance looked up at him. There was just a hint 
of the old friendly light in her eyes, but the smile was 
not as frank as the smile he used to know. He was 
conscious of the difference, and a shadow fell across 
his face as he asked: 

“Constance, I want to ask just one favor of you. 
We once were too good friends for you to refuse it. 
S35 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

We are both in wrong as things stand now, but if I 
have half a chance I mean to get right, and all I ask 
is a square deal. Will you give it to me? Will you 
come out with me in the canoe to-morrow at five? I’ll 
be there on the minute. Constance, every man deserves 
a hearing. Will you give me one? It is all I ask. I 
think I can make you understand ; at any rate, I shall 
make a harder try at it than I’ve ever made at any- 
thing in my life. Will you come?” 

For a moment she hesitated, then said: 

‘Wes, I will come,” 


236 


Chapter XVIII 


UP THE RIVER 

‘‘No, let me do the paddling. I want you up in the 
bow facing me,” ordered Snap the following afternoon 
when Constance, in white duck skirt and jumper, 
reached for a paddle lying upon the landing. 

“But I like to paddle,” she protested. 

“You may some other time, but to-day I want aU 
your attention. I’ve got a stormy cruise ahead, I’m 
afraid, and I’ll have to put into practical use all the 
nav I’ve ever learned, I reckon.” 

For a second Constance glanced at the blue water, 
slightly rippled by the soft April wind, for April in 
bonny Maryland is the month we picture it; at the 
velvety green of the Athletic field already dotted by 
the early arrivals of the baseball squad and La Crosse 
team, then beyond to Cemetery Point in its wonderful 
mantle of budding trees and shrubs. Snap followed 
her glance. 

“No, I don’t mean on the river. My cruise has life- 
buoys to mark its channel and I need a pilot, for I’m 
afraid I’ve tried to navigate uncharted waters for 
nearly twenty-three years.” 

He helped her into the canoe, placed the cushions 
comfortably at her back, and then stepped into the 
237 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


stern. How lightly and surely he settled upon the 
tiny caned thwart. He wore his “works” and the little 
round hat, its blue border faded from many washings, 
was pushed far back upon his dark hair. Gently the 
paddle slid into the water as the first easy, though 
powerful stroke sent the canoe gliding swiftly from the 
float. For a few minutes Snap was wholly absorbed 
by his work of rounding the long, sandy shoal which 
puts out from Cemetery Point, for there was a strong 
ebb tide. Constance glanced up at the fine, resolute 
face, with its masterful mouth, firm chin and wonder- 
ful dark eyes. Snap looking straight ahead was not 
aware of the glance. Presently they were out upon 
the flowing reach of the river, the canoe rising and 
falling gently but forging steadily up stream against 
the swift current. They reached the bridge, shot be- 
neath it and Snap made for the opposite shore. 

“Are you tired so soon.^” asked Constance. 

“Do I look it.? These arms weren’t built to play 
out after fifteen minutes’ paddling, were they.?” he 
asked. He had rolled up his jumper sleeves for greater 
freedom. 

“Hardly,” she answered, smiling at the thought of 
those splendidly developed muscles, which swelled and 
rippled with every stroke of the paddle, tiring so easily. 

“No, I’m not tired, Constance, but in yonder, where 
those white dogwood blossoms are growing almost to 
the water’s edge is the place I’ve chosen to adjust my 
compass, and I’ve waited four whole months to do it. 
I tried to long ago, but my Chief Navigator has al- 
238 


UP THE RIVER 


ways turned me down,” he said whimsically, as he ran 
the bow of the canoe up to the sandy beach. 

“Oh, must I get out ? I don’t want to ; it’s so beau- 
tiful right here. How exquisite all the new spring 
world is ! You are fully a month in advance of Mont- 
gentian down here.” 

“Would you rather I talked to you with the length 
of the canoe between us? Are you afraid of me, little 
girl?’ 

Constance colored. How intuitively he had read 
her thoughts. 

“You need not be. The four months have taught 
me a whole lot more than you can guess, but the hard- 
est lesson I’ve had to learn has been to unlearn. But 
there’s no use beating about the bush. I’ll sit here 
in the canoe to tell you what I wish to if you’d rather 
I told it here, but — will you trust me by coming to sit 
on that log yonder? I asked for a square deal, Con- 
stance, and you may count on one too.” 

Something in his face made her realize that she was 
facing a greater crisis than she had suspected, and 
she said: 

“Steady the canoe, please. No, I am not afraid of 
you, and you, also, shall have the square deal.” She 
stepped lightly ashore and as her weight was removed 
from it the bow of the canoe rose. With a powerful 
push on his paddle Snap drove it well up on the sand, 
bounded out, and catching hold of the bow drew the 
little craft high above the current’s reach. Dropping 
the paddle upon the sand, he tossed his hat beside it 
239 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


and ran his brown, slender fingers through his hair. 
Then giving his head a shake he dropped down upon 
the old log which had served as a seat for many a 
man and maid. For a moment he was silent, looking 
off across the river; his silence was more trying for 
the girl than words would have been. Presently he 
said : 

“All this is a part of you; a sweet, fresh, clean 
world; a perfect springtide. No, don’t start and 
draw away like that,” as Constance’s face grew 
troubled. “I’m not going to turn sentimental. I’m 
only saying exactly what I’ve already said to your 
Aunt Janet. Oh, yes, we have had our pow-wow and 
she understands and still has faith in me, anyway. 
That is one comfort. I only hope I can re-establish 
yours, for I held it once, didn’t 1.^^” 

How eagerly he hung upon her answer. In the 
moment he waited his anxious eyes watched the conflict 
of outraged ideals and womanly instincts tempered 
with mercy and justice. Presently, looking straight 
at him, though her fingers toyed nervously with the 
hat she had removed and held upon her lap, she said: 

“When I first came down here I was a mere child in 
many ways; do you realize that, Mr. Hunter?” He 
nodded, but did not speak, and she continued: “I was 
twenty only a few weeks ago, as you know, but in these 
few weeks I’ve lived years. Thank you for your birth- 
day letter. It was kind of you to remember, and for 
the beautiful roses ; I appreciated both, but they 
would have meant a great deal more to me under other 
240 


UP THE RIVER 


circumstances. I have valued the friendships given to 
me down here more than you men realize; they have 
done more for me than anything else in the world could ; 
taught me more. Maybe I’m different from other girls ; 
perhaps my life has been differently ordered. At all 
events, mother has set our ideals high, and our world 
has been a wonderfully sweet, true one. Mind, I do 
not mean a prudish one, but one in which womanhood 
has stood for such a lot in the belief that it can estab- 
lish a man’s standards. Of course, I know and have 
seen that there are all kinds, but, somehow, I never 
had that fact brought quite so close home before as it 
was brought last Thanksgiving Eve. Perhaps it is 
because I have neither father or brothers ; possibly be- 
cause home has been such a sheltered place; perhaps 
because mother has tried to make us all understand 
that it is beneath a woman’s dignity to play at love- 
making, and I never before had such an illustration 
of it. It was, I dare say, just nonsense to Mrs. 
Cardine ” 

“Was it!” exclaimed Snap grimly, his cheeks color- 
ing under their coat of tan as he thought of some of 
the earlier passages of that “nonsense”. 

“That is not for me to decide. I can only say that 
where I shrank instinctively before, I now dislike and 
avoid all I possibly can, yet I cannot be openly rude. 
But my eyes have been opened. I have learned that a 
man can cultivate two types of women for friends and 
often do so successfully.” 

Voice and eyes indicated something closer to an out- 

241 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

burst of anger than he had ever before seen in the girl, 
and he murmured: 

“You gave me a shot below the water line that time, 
Constance.” 

Without heeding the interruption she continued: 

“At least, some men can, providing the women will 
let them. A great many do and laugh at the scruples 
of those who will not. I cannot change that, nor can 
I change the world, and I’d be laughed at for my pains 
if I attempted such a Quixotic crusade, but this I can 
and shall do: I shall choose my friends among those I 
can trust and whom I believe hold a common standard 
of morals for men and women. If they expect us to be 
honorable and pure why should not they be?” 

“And how do you propose to find out whether these 
paragons of yours hold to one standard or not?” 
There was bitterness in the tone and a cynical light in 
the man’s eyes. How proudly the pretty head was 
raised as she shot a challenging glance straight from 
the brown eyes into the dark ones, and replied: 

“By the touchstone you have been the one to give me. 
Sooner or later I’ll discover whether or not the metal 
is pure. Dross could have been palmed off upon me 
six months ago, but, it cannot now.” 

“And so I’m to be turned down simply because of 
that nonsense, am I?” 

“Has it all been as harmless as that ^nonsense’?” 

“Yes, by the Lord it has!” cried Snap. “What do 
you take me for, Constance. By heavens you shan't 
slip your cable altogether!” he cried, springing to his 


UP THE RIVER 


feet and striding up and down before her, his hands 
jammed into the pockets of his duck trousers. ‘‘What 
do you believe of me, anyway?” 

The blood surged into the girl’s face, but she did 
not falter : “Don’t misunderstand me, either,” she said, 
“but she is a woman, the wife of one of your superior 
officers; she is here alone while her husband is on sea- 
duty. He had no choice because he is serving 
and she pointed to the distant Academy grounds where 
the star-spangled flag floated from its staff. “He 
had to leave her here whether he would or not, and it 
seems to me that she ought to be the charge and care 
of every man stationed here, just as every woman 
should be; that honor to womanhood should be a part 
of their honor to their flag.” 

“All very nice, but suppose they don’t invite that 
honor? Suppose a few of them prefer to strike out 
for themselves and make things a little interesting for 
the men? Constance, you don’t know what you are 
talking about. You may be right in theory, but in 

reality Well, when it comes to a question of honor 

and square dealing there is something to be said on the 
man’s side too, let me tell you.” Snap paused in his 
stride and impatiently wiped the perspiration from 
his forehead, his eyes gazing far beyond the intently 
listening girl. “Have you any idea what mischief such 
a woman can do down in a place like this? Mind I’m 
not playing Adam, and blaming Eve, but I tell you 
right now you can’t estimate it even a little bit. No, I 
haven’t much to be proud of in my life. I’ll admit, and 
^43 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


I’d cut out whole chapters of it if I could, but that 
Thanksgiving Eve show-down and the letter you read 
weren’t half as black as you think them. She and I 
have been several kinds of fools and I’m far and away 
from the only fool, but are you going to turn me down 
altogether for it? I had sense enough to see that it 
nearly knocked the ways from under you, and it gave 
me a jar I’m not likely to forget. I began to under- 
stand that the viewpoint of a girl of nineteen and mine 
regarding certain standards might be as wide apart as 
the poles. Your ideals are high ones, Constance, and it 
will have to be a pretty good showing of a man to live 
up to them. It’s a pity more women don’t navigate by 
them. I’ll admit that all right. But is it going to 
break our friendship short off? I can’t stand for that, 
little girl. You’ve shown me what a friendship can be.” 

“Are we not friends still?” asked Constance. 

“Do you think I call this counterfeit article friend- 
ship? Not on your life! I want what I had before — 
and more! Why, you are no more the girl you were 
before that night — than, than, — well, than you’re like 
Mrs. Cardine, and that’s saying a whole lot. Can’t we 
get back to the old footing, Constance? This break 
has fetched me up with a round turn, I can tell you. 

Before the world we may seem the same, but ” and 

Snap gave a derisive wave to indicate his feelings. 

“I dare say I expect far too much of my friends, but 
you men down here seem to stand for something so big 
and splendid. The men in the Service are the repre- 
seDtfi^tive jneii of our country. You have sworn to 


UP THE RIVER 


serve it faithfully, to honor our flag, to be men in the 
truest, noblest sense of the word. I have never felt it 
as I have felt it since coming here, but I have grown so 
proud of you all ; so honored to be identifled with you, 
to feel that I am really a part of it, and if the time 
ever came when my country needed my services I could 
do my share as you would be doing yours. You 
wouldn’t willingly do anything to dishonor Old Glory, 
would you?” 

‘‘Great God, no ! "What a question.” 

“Well, maybe I’m wrong, but somehow I seem to 
have a more compelling idea of what it means to serve 
it, and it seems to me our men should be too big, too 
noble, too — too — oh, so far above other men that they 
couldn’t stoop to anything unworthy of their man- 
hood. Self-sacrifice and self-denial seem a part of it 
all. I know how hard such a woman can make it for 
you — (“I’m damned if you do!” was Snap’s mental 
comment) — ^but it ought to be a case of noblesse 
oblige. 

“How about her side of it?” Snap’s laugh was not 
pleasant. 

“It is as bad one way as the other, but remember he 
usually seeks ” 

“Not invariably,” was the bitter retort. 

“Well, he need not follow if he does not wish to, and 
a woman who is another man’s wife should be sacred, 
however fascinating she may be. Once gossip is started 
it is an avalanche and others are overwhelmed too.’^ 
245 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘You believe me to be wholly responsible for this 
fool flirtation?” 

“By no means. I am not so foolishly unsophisticated 
as all that, but I am sorry I ever learned of it, because 
it has made it impossible for me to esteem you as I did 
before.” 

“Constance !” 

“I am sorry, but you wanted the truth. I don’t 
want to wound you, but if I had not seen and heard I 
should never have grown suspicious, for I trust my 
friends implicitly. I’d rather believe a man honest 
until I prove him otherwise than begin the other way 
about !” 

Her hands were clenched together in her lap, and 
he saw the nails sink into her flesh. How helpless he 
felt to combat her convictions. But, after all, did he 
wish to? Was she not the stronger of the two? He 
dropped upon the log beside her once more, his hands 
clasped between his knees, his foot idly scraping the 
sand into a little pile. Presently he held out his hand 
to her, saying: 

“Please drop the ‘Mr. Hunter’ and let it be ‘Snap’ 
while we sit here anyway.” 

She placed hers in the broad palm. 

Then he resumed : “Constance, I tried to tell you the 
whole truth in my letters. That was a fool flirtation 
and has been going on for two years. I never realized 
or cared to realize all it meant before, or to what it 
might lead, though God knows it has led to enough 
already by making you doubt me. But I mean to what 
246 


UP THE RIVER 


scandal it might have led. Perhaps when Cardine 
comes back he’ll make it interesting for me, and the 
gossips won’t pipe down if there’s a chance to make 
things lively. You’re dead right, — ^the little snowball 
can grow into an avalanche. But, so help me God, I’ll 
win back your confidence, Constance, and prove to you 
that I am a man and can make good. You’ve made me 
feel like making a hole in that water out yonder and 
getting into it. You’ve put me wise to a few things 
even if I am supposed to be one of the savvy members 
of my class. But will you try to trust me again, dear? 
Try to believe I’ve told you all the truth.” His voice 
grew softer as he looked at her, but there was a grim 
determination in the dark eyes. She trembled in spite 
of herself. 

‘T shall not ask for anything more until I’ve demon- 
strated my right to do so, and if, in the meantime you 
find that there is someone else who can fill your life 
fuller than I ever could: who can make you happier, I 
want you to make your choice, dear. There are hun- 
dreds of better men right here in the Academy than I 
can ever hope to be, to say nothing of those beyond it. 
And it must be your happiness: not mine. But will 
you try to give me the place in your friendship I once 
held?” 

‘‘Yes, I will try. Snap.” 

The name fell from her lips very softly and he 
thrilled at the word. Then he resumed: 

“You can’t help realizing what you are to a man 
like Clint, — the dearest friend I have in the world, Con- 
^47 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


stance, — and you will never have cause to doubt him. 
So what am I that I should even dare to hope? His 
life has been as pure as your own. Mine? Perhaps it 
has not differed greatly from many other men’s — ^but 
would to God I could render as clean a record as his. 
How little you know of our lives after all. How little 
a woman can ever know.” He paused and again looked 
out upon the river. 

‘‘More perhaps than you realize, Snap.” The words 
were a mere murmur. 

He turned suddenly and looked into the soft eyes 
as though he would read her very soul. 

“What do you mean? That you know more of my 
life than I believe you do? What has she told you?” 
There was a dangerous glitter in his eyes. 

“No one has told me anything concerning you; they 
would not have dared do so, but — but well, mother and 
I have been very close to each other all our lives, and 
she believes that girls should — should ” 

“Yes, dear, don’t stop ; please go on ; this is sacred.” 

The face turned toward him was almost pathetic in 
its purity, the light in the eyes strangely appealing. 

“Should understand something of life, its tempta- 
tions, the emotions which sway it,” she continued so 
low that he was forced to bend his head to catch the 
words. “We have no brothers, you know, but she 
wished me to — oh, how shall I go on?” and leaning for- 
ward, she covered her face with her hands. 

Snap rose to his feet, his eyes strangely dimmed, his 
lips quivering. Resting one hand upon the bowed 
248 



HE TURNED SUDDENLY AND LOOKED INTO THE SOFT EYES, 








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UP THE RIVER 


shoulder, he said in a voice which quivered with intense 
emotion : 

“And out of her tolerance, her love for weaker ones, 
for we are weaker in one sense, she has taught you this ? 
Taught you the sweet charity which can reach out and 
strengthen those who are less strong. God bless her 
for it ! And with this knowledge, this understanding, 
you have retained all your own purity and sweetness; 
all the rare qualities which make you what you are 
and give you the power to elevate others.” 

“If I am all that you believe me to be, the honor is 
hers, not mine. Perhaps such knowledge saves false 
steps and inspires higher ideals ; helps one to help 
others. At least, it should prevent us from destroying 
theirs, or lowering their standards. She thinks so.” 

“And so knowing and understanding, will you try to 
trust me once more, Constance? Perhaps it has not 
been quite as dark as you picture it — my life, I mean — 
just the average man’s, but, I’d give half of it if I 
could only stand beside you here and truthfully say, it 
is as white as his. I can’t, but such as it is, will you 
let me try to restore your faith in me? Will you let 
the reverence which you have inspired as no other 
woman ever has ; the tenderness which you have aroused 
in my impetuous, vehement nature, compensate for some 
of my shortcomings? Look at me, Constance.” 

She rose and stood beside him, saying gently: 

“Perhaps I am over-exacting, but in order to esteem 
I must first trust. Snap. We’ll begin the friendship 
anew to-day.” 


S49 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


As they stood there with the sun setting behind 
Cemetery Point the soft notes of a bugle sounding 
‘‘taps” fell upon their ears. Both started and looked 
toward the cemetery. A little group of marines was 
discernable gathered about a grave. One of the en- 
listed men had died in the hospital two days before 
and this was his burial. A simple military service with 
his company gathered around him. There was no 
record of his deeds in “song or story”; his duty had 
been “only to stand and wait”. Dull and irksome at 
times, and no glory. How sweet and clear were the 
notes as they floated across the water, sounding the 
unknown lad’s requiem; his lullaby. 

“Go to s-l-e-e-p. Go to s-l-e-e-p. 

Go to sleep — go to sleep — go to sleep ” 

Involuntarily Snap drew his heels together and stood 
at attention facing the cemetery. 

As the tender, haunting note ceased he looked at 
Constance. Her eyes were suffused. Snap’s grew 
strangely soft as he said: 

“Some day that good-night will sound for me. Please 
God, I’ll be ready with a clean record when it does. If 
I am, it will be more largely due to you than you’ll ever 
realize, Constance. Four bells. I must take you back. 
Thank you for this hour. I’ll never forget it. I de- 
served all you said, and I’ll win back the faith and 
friendship.” 

They paddled back in silence. 


250 


Chapter XIX 


A CREW RACE AND A PICNIC 

Since that day up the river Snap and Constance had 
met only in the presence of others. He had not avoided 
her, but had been very careful not to force himself 
upon her. Quieter and more thoughtful than usual, 
he had watched out for her comfort and pleasure, but 
had chosen the hours when he knew her to be absent 
with some of the others to pay his visits to Middies’ 
Haven and have his little talks with Mrs. Harold. His 
‘^foster-mother” he called her. 

And as the days slipped by she grew to love him as 
a son and to look forward to his coming as she would 
have looked for the coming of her own boy. He once 
asked her why she held her faith in him and gave him 
such a place in her heart. Her answer had been: 

“You are my very beloved foster-son, and what are 
mothers for but to understand their children and give 
them the love and sympathy they need when battles are 
to be fought? You are fighting a hard one now unless 
I am greatly mistaken, dear.” 

He made no answer, but bending down let his cheek 
rest upon her hair for a moment. 

And so the weeks slipped by and the day of the 

251 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Columbia-Navy crew race drew nearer and nearer, as 
well as final exams. Several days before the race the 
Columbia crew came to Annapolis with coach and subs. 
They stopped at Wilmot Hall and a finer bunch of men 
it would have been hard to find. They were fit to a 
finish, and were cared for and coddled like infants. Not 
so the Navy crew over in quarters. There was no 
let-up for them in the daily routine of academic work 
and drills. Each morning hour was filled to the limit ; 
each afternoon crowded with duties until five o’clock 
sent them hurrying down to the boat-house for the 
shell and an hour’s pull over the course. If these 
men won against the Columbia crew they would 
win against greater odds than the outer world could 
ever know or they would ever permit it to guess. They 
were not crying for favor. There was no seven-thirty 
rising for them! No walk before breakfast for an 
appetizer ; no relaxation at mid-day between the morn- 
ing and afternoon pull over the course; no turning in 
at nine-thirty; no cessation of the round of duties or 
work because the big race of the year was pending. 

Clint pulled stroke oar, Burlington sixth, and for 
some time he had been out of form. Just wherein 
the trouble lay the coach could not decide, but it was 
there, and when he asked Clint if he felt it the reply 
had been rather evasive ; Clint’s position was a peculiar 
one, — Burlington as captain of the Eighth Company 
was doing his best to win the colors for it 1 Ned 
Morris, pulling bow oar, was a P. O. in Burlington’s 
company. To criticise Burlington would stir up no 
252 


A CREW RACE AND A PICNIC 


end of feeling, yet in justice to the Navy crew, as well 
as to Clint’s own company, which had worked hard 
for the colors, the truth regarding Burlington’s work 
at No. 6 oar must be admitted. Three days before 
the race, on the Wednesday afternoon practice pull 
over the outer course, things came to a climax. The 
shell had rolled for no apparent cause, Burlington had 
lost his swing and fallen behind in his catch. When 
they got back to the float the coach lit into Clint, who 
turning answered sharply: 

“I haven’t a word to say, for no matter which way 
I put it I stand to lose, I guess. It’s up to you.” 

‘‘Then I’ll shoulder the responsibility,” was the grim 
reply. Ned Morris overheard the conversation, Bur- 
lington did not. The next day another man was put 
in Burlington’s place and on the following Saturday he 
did not row. 

Clint was out of his exams, so the morning for him 
held no extra exertion, but all the other men on the 
crew had to face flve hours of nerve-racking work. 
They were both physically and mentally exhausted 
when the bugle sounded eight bells for noon release. 

Snap had been placed in charge of one of the guard 
boats which were to patrol the course. The crews were 
thought to be very evenly matched and the contest was 
expected to be a thrilling one. The Navy had met and 
defeated the eight from Pennsylvania the week before 
and the Columbia oarsmen had vanquished the Harvard 
crew on the same day. 

Mrs. Harold, CoRstance, Katherine, Beatrice, Anna, 

25S 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


Fay and several of the others were to go out on Snap’s 
launch, which was now bobbing up and down upon the 
waves beside the float waiting for its passengers, Snap 
gazing impatiently up Maryland Avenue, for the time 
was growing short. 

Inside the main gate, and sauntering slowly down 
the walk toward the float, could be seen Anna and 
Billy, seemingly oblivious to everything and everyone 
except themselves, with the rest of the party not far 
behind them. When they finally stopped to dispute 
the contents of something Anna carried, presumably a 
box of candy. Snap shook his head. 

‘‘Don, jump up there and tell that bunch to shake a 
leg — well, no ; better make it bear a hand. I was told 
to shove off promptly at three o’clock and here it is 
three-fifteen already.” 

“Don’t you know that time, tide and a crew race 
started by Bill Merwin wait for no man,” called Snap, 
as his guests hurried down to the float, “and that 
means that if Anna Ashton and Billy Crosby don’t 
shake it up a bit this guard boat will never get beyond 
the second bridge in time for us to see even the finish. 
Hustle, all you people!” 

A blue and white guard flag — the “Five of Clubs” — 
fluttered gayly from her single mast, and the jet of 
white steam escaping from her safety valve showed her 
impatience to be off. She was manned by a crew of 
trim looking blue jackets, whose spotless white uni- 
forms belied their names. 

“Scramble right down here this minute. All aboard !” 


A CREW RACE AND A PICNIC 


ordered Snap. Then to the coxswain, “Shove off and 
stand up the river.” 

With the cheery “Aye, aye, sir,” the coxswain pushed 
off, signaled his engineer, and the little craft, its pro- 
peller churning the blue water in its wake into foam, 
danced merrily over the waves toward the distant 
draw. 

It was a gay little party. Mrs. Harold occupied 
the position of honor farthest aft in the sternsheets. 
Snap was standing up beside the canopy, directing the 
movements of the steamer and looking every inch the 
officer that was in him, unconsciously graceful, with 
one hand resting on his hip and the other on the man- 
rope along the curtains. The rest of the party were 
distributed along the thwarts busily eating from Anna’s 
box of Huyler’s. Constance had seated herself just at 
the doorway of the launch, where an occasional dash 
of spray was entering. Katherine was opposite her on 
the leeward side well out of reach of any salt water 
which might work damage to her carefully cultivated 
complexion and leaning against one of the men’s 
reefers. 

“I say, Katherine,” said Hill, “will you let Con- 
stance have that reefer? She’s getting wet over here.” 

Katherine was not in any too pleasant a mood. She 
bit her lip. “Certainly,” she said coldly, “anything 
to be obliging to the stranger within our gates, I’m 
sure,” and reached behind her for the reefer, but before 
it could be taken Fay said serenely as he picked up his 
255 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


raincoat near at hand, “This is a heap better than a 
reefer. Pass it along, Billy.” 

“Look alive ! The Columbia crew is just going under 
the bridge!” cried Snap, and so saved an awkward 
situation, for all became absorbed in watching the hap- 
penings beyond the launch. 

Hill was pointing out the course to Constance, who 
was now standing and eagerly watching the prepara- 
tions out beyond. Billy was endeavoring to arouse 
Beatrice’s interest, not an easy proposition, for the 
man standing beside the canopy held a vast deal more 
of it than he either knew or cared. 

Until time for the race to start the launch stood 
back and forth across the river, keeping the little 
motorboats and other craft clear of the course. The 
Standish, loaded with midshipmen and their friends, 
had taken a berth near the finish line, and the two tor- 
pedo-boats which were to follow the shells sped by them 
on their way to the starting point. 

The Columbia shell, in tow of the launch which had 
been placed at the rival crew’s disposal, was already 
disappearing up the river. The Navy shell, rowed by 
her own crew of splendid men, had just left the float 
and presently passed to starboard of Snap’s launch, 
to be greeted by a lusty yell from the men on board and 
a wild waving of handkerchiefs and banners by the 
women as they called a cheering send-off to their 
friends. 

“You’ll have to pull for your striper as well as 

256 


A CREW RACE AND A PICNIC 


yourself to-day, Ned,” called Katherine, with subtle 
malice. 

Clint colored but took no notice. 

‘‘Sorry I can’t give you these violets, but I’m 
afraid your coach would pronounce them freight and 
make you pitch them overboard. Good luck doesn’t 
take extra room, though, so I’ll figuratively dump loads 
of that on board,” called Constance. 

“I’U carry all you can give us ! We can’t fail the 
Navy to-day!” shouted Clint, as the shell drew away 
from them and little Duncan shouted back through his 
megaphone : 

“If you’d only consented to be the coxswain as I 
urged you to, we’d have had a cinch! The other crew 
would have been so busy admiring you that they’d 
have forgotten to row.” 

“Yes, why didn’t you, Constance?” asked Billy 
Crosby. “Why, my white works would have fitted you 
to a T,” and Billy eyed her critically, to her intense 
confusion and the others’ vast amusement. 

The launch now took its position and waited for the 
signal. 

Snap looked at his watch ; the hands pointed to four. 

“Look alive !” he cried, and had hardly spoken when 
there was a little flash and a pulf of smoke from the 
deck of the smallest of the torpedo-boats and sixteen 
oars flashed in the sunlight and took the water together. 
Abreast of them sped the torpedo-boat. All were alert 
and watching eagerly. Snap joined Constance and 
Hill on the gunwale. 


257 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


In all athletics there is no more inspiring sight than 
a crew race. The absolute perfect synchronism of 
motion of bodies and oars, the shouting, noisy little 
coxswains and the darting shells. Nearer and nearer 
they came. Is the Navy boat leading? No, Co- 
lumbia is half a length ahead. What’s that ! A spurt ! 
Slowly but surely the Navy boat is cutting down the 
lead. The screeching siren on the Standish rends the 
air and the whistles of the launches and smaller craft 
join in the tumult. 

On, on they come, Columbia still in the lead, the men 
pulling with swift, steady strokes. In the Navy shell 
the men are throwing the splendid strength of their 
shoulders against the twelve-foot sweeps which flash in 
and out of the water without a fleck of spray. Now the 
Columbia shell is abreast Snap’s launch, the bow of 
the Navy shell gradually crawling up to it. Forward 
and back sway the bare backs, the men working as 
though one brain controlled the eight, Clint setting the 
stroke as little Duncan gives the time, the pulsating 
shell shooting forward to overtake its adversary. 

“Hit it up, old man! Overhaul ’em for fair! Beat 
’em out of sight !” yelled Snap’s deep voice. He could 
hear the quick intake of Clint’s breath and knew he was 
putting every ounce of his strength into the contest. 
Was not she watching him, and did not Snap know 
what that would have meant to him had he been in 
Clint’s place? 

Unconsciously Constance had drawn closer and 
closer to Snap and now without being at all aware of 
258 


A CREW RACE AND A PICNIC 


her act she was clasping both hands about his arm. 
He thrilled to the touch, then held himself rigid. How 
beautiful the girl looked! Her sweet face flushed with 
eager excitement. The wind blew a lock of hair across 
her eyes, but with an impatient toss of her head she 
threw it aside, calling out: 

‘‘Oh, Clint! Clint! You must win! You must pull 
ahead of them !” 

Over the man’s bronzed face crept a deeper flush. 
It was a crisis in his life in more than one sense. Boy- 
hood was dropping behind him almost as swiftly as the 
craft they were rushing by. Manhood, with all its 
hopes and aspirations, seemed to be at the stakeboat 
beyond. W’ould he win in the “man’s race”.? 

Hill caught Snap’s eye and smiled as indulgently as 
a grave elderly brother. Snap shook his head warn- 
ingly. Not for a thousand worlds would he have wak- 
ened the girl to a knowledge of her act. He knew her 
thoughts were not for him, and if friendship meant 
anything it meant loyalty to her and that man yonder 
in the shell. 

Foot by foot the Navy shell crept up to the Co- 
lumbia’s, until the gap was entirely closed and the 
yells, whistles and sirens told the story to those who 
were on shore. Then Columbia spurted in fine style and 
a slight gain rewarded them, but they could not hold 
the pace. 

“Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!” shouted the coxswain, 
hitting up the time, and on swung the men of the blue 
and gold. 


259 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘Row ! Row ! Row ! Row like the very devil !” yelled 
the head coach through his megaphone as the Manley 
rushed along beside the crew, and the next second the 
Navy crew shot ahead and there was clear water be- 
tween the shells. Only a breathless moment longer, but 
it seemed ages to those on the launch, then the flag on 
the stakeboat fluttered down as the Navy shell swept 
by it. There was the grind of the slides, the skitter 
of oars across the surface of the water, the dying head- 
way of the shell and the swaying bodies of eight utterly 
weary though happy men. Constance had loosened 
her clasp upon Snap’s arm and turned to call into 
the cockpit to Mrs. Harold: 

“Oh, he won, Tante ! He won !” 

Snap drew a quick, sharp breath as though someone 
had struck him. Hill saw it. 

“You stood the gaff, old man,” he said softly. 

“Never let her know that she did it,” he replied, 
his eyes full of pain. 

“Trust me,” answered Hill, and stepped into the 
cockpit. 

An instant later the Columbia crew was over the 
line. Beaten, yes, but by foemen well worthy of the 
best in every man. From the Standish rose a Four-N 
Yell for the vanquished and another for the victors. 
The shells disappeared under the bridge to be followed 
by the other craft as the draw swung slowly open. And 
tooting whistles, waving caps, hilarious greetings from 
boat, canoe or launch testified to the holiday spirit of 
260 



* ‘perhaps I HAVE A TALISMAN WHICH MAKES ME FORGET IT,” 
HE SAID, BENDING TO LOOK INTO HER FACE. 


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A CREW RACE AND A PICNIC 


the crowd. On the way home it was Snap who had the 
place beside Constance. 

During the ensuing week ‘‘The Masqueraders” gave 
their clever play, and the days of the graduating class 
were reduced to thirteen “and a butt”. Already An- 
napolis had begun to fill with the rush of people for 
June week, the event of the fifty- two. Wilmot teemed 
with relatives even unto the ’nth degree. 

The following Sunday after service a launch bobbed 
at the Maryland Avenue float, for Mrs. Harold was 
giving a picnic at Whitehall, and Snap as her Prime 
Minister, Admiral and High Steward combined, saw 
to it that her guests were comfortably settled on 
board. Eats in quantity to supply three times her 
number of guests were stowed snugly forward and the 
big party filled the launch. Mrs. Harold, Constance, 
Katherine, Anna, Beatrice, Snap, Clint, Hill, Ned, 
Billy and Fay comprised the party. 

“I say, which of us is an odd fellow.?” cried Billy 
jocularly; “guess it’s you. Fay.” 

“ ‘And there’s luck in odd numbers, says Rory 
O’Moore’,” quoted Fay imperturbably as he seated him- 
self near Constance. 

Never was day fairer, never water or skies bluer, 
never hills greener, the world fresher or sweeter. 

The merry party disembarked at the long dock at 
Whitehall, hurried up the steep bank and quickly 
selected their picnic ground. 

“Quick, son, help me spread the cloth and serve the 

^61 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES" HAVEN 


feast,” cried Mrs. Harold, as she stopped beneath a 
mighty oak tree. 

“We’ll all help,” was the instant response in chorus. 

“No ! No ! We don’t want you. Take ’em all away 
until we are ready for them. Burton. I deputize you 
as the ‘odd fellow’ to keep these people from under foot 
until everything is ready. Get them over yonder near 
the flower gardens. Keep their noses delighted until 
we can gratify their palates. This is Snap’s and my 
picnic and we are not going to be robbed of our honors. 
He will help me and the men will get the stuff up from 
the launch,” she concluded, as the jackies came strug- 
gling up the bank burdened with a huge ice cream 
freezer and block of ice. 

“Beat it! Come on, people, let’s be sportive. Race 
you to that tree yonder!” cried the usually dignified, 
reserved Fay, making a dash for a monster catalpa 
tree in perfect flower, followed full tilt by Clint, Hill, 
Ned and Billy, the girls close behind, for here was 
hey-day and holiday truly. The men wore their white 
working suits and the girls white duck. 

Fay reached the tree, gave a spring, caught a 
bough and swung himself up sailor fashion, the other 
men hard upon him, the girls dropping upon the vel- 
vety turf beneath. 

“Attention! Shower the fair ones beneath!” com- 
manded Fay, breaking off a cluster of catalpa blooms, 
wonderful as orchids, and dropping them upon Con- 
stance’s head. 


A CREW RACE AND A PICNIC 


‘‘Where away, Constance?” called Clint from his 
leafy perch. 

“Two points north by east,” was the merry answer 
as the girl stood with arms upraised to catch the 
flowery shower which she at once began to weave into 
an up-to-date flower hat. She had not worn a hat, her 
skin seeming impervious to the action of sun, wind or 
wave, but becoming softer and more rose-like under 
their influence. Anna wore a huge shade hat. Kathe- 
rine and Beatrice wore hats and veils also to protect — 
well, one a naturally delicate complexion, the other, 
one which demanded and received equal attention. 
The face turned upward to Clint in his perch was like 
a wild rose. An odd little thrill passed through him 
as he looked down upon it. 

“Why don’t you girls take off those sky-pieces and 
rig up like Constance? Her headgear’s great,” called 
Billy, showering Nan with blossoms. 

“Yes, regular picnic-May-day-Watteau effect,” 
added Ned. “Take off that scrap-basket, Katherine, 
and try a flower bonnet. Constance’s is great.” 

“Mighty pretty effect from up here,” was Fay’s 
complacent comment. 

“Very touching and very fetching, no doubt, but 
wait until her dear nose begins to peel and her neck 
takes on the hue of the luscious tomato,” was Kathe- 
rine’s pleasing prediction. 

Constance did not reply, but looking off toward the 
bay, a merry twinkle in her eyes, she began to sing: 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


‘‘Then while they sat in the noon-day sun, 

The bloom on her cheeks began to run. 

But she who had never turned a hair, 

Said, ‘You’re for looks, and I’m for wear, — 

I’m for use, and you’re for show. 

And that is the way of the world, you know^’^ 

“Oh, I say ! That’s great ! Give us another ! Why 
didn’t you let on you could sing? Say, Connie, you’re 
downright narrow-minded,” were the enthusiastic com- 
ments from overhead. 

For half an hour the beautiful voice led, the choruses 
filling the soft summer air. Then came an interrup- 
tion in Snap’s stentorian shouts: 

“Fall to! Fall to! Feast all laid! Feast all laid!” 
which brought the men tumbling headlong from their 
perches and the girls to their feet. 

Who can describe that spread with its dainty sand- 
wiches, salads, olives, salted nuts, and also loaves of 
homemade bread, fresh rolls of butter and jugs of 
cream brought straight from the dairy at hand. Choco- 
late cake, caramel cake, fruit cake, — ^yes, cakes enough 
to kill anything, or anybody, but five hungry girls and 
chronically famished midshipmen. 

Snap as host, cried, “Be seated, friends — ^the ground 
is broad enough and the grass is soft. You’ll be hon- 
ored in being served by the fair hands of your hostess 
and large ones of your host. Here, Fay, pass these 
sandwiches ; Clint, get busy and cut that loaf of bread ; 


264 * 


A CREW RACE AND A PICNIC 


Constance, lend me that filmy, fleecy affair of yours 
yonder ; I don’t feel dressed to my part.” 

Constance handed over a pink silk scarf which she 
had brought with her. ‘‘Delighted, I’m sure, to help 
out with properties,” she laughed. 

“Of course. We’ll all contribute to each other’s 
festivities,” rattled on Snap in hilarious mood, tying 
the scarf over his canvass suit a la ^‘Merry Widow”. 
Then balancing a huge plate of sandwiches airily upon 
one hand he pranced gayly in and out among the men 
and girls seated upon the grass. 

“What’s he been taking,” asked Hill, as Snap con- 
tinued his cavortings. He did not often “cut loose”, 
as his friends termed it, but when he did, like most of 
his disposition, he was absurd to the last degree. 

“Ginger pop. He was thirsty, so I let him open a 
bottle on the sly — and its popping,” answered Mrs. 
Harold merrily, doing her best to pour glasses of milk 
without meeting with disaster. 

“Hold him down! Hold him down!” cried Hill. 
“Such demonstrations of intemperate habits are un- 
seemly.” A wild grab at the prancing legs produced 
the inevitable: Snap, the plate and its contents de- 
scended. 

“There, you chump! Don’t mind me, only for 
heaven’s sake get me off the grub before it’s squashed.” 
Hill came to the rescue, picked up the scattered sand- 
wiches, examined them carefully for damages, and said : 
“Guess you put about half a dozen out of commission, 
265 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

but these’ll do if the grass and bugs are removed from 
them.” 

“Do your own serving. I’m going to eat,” protested 
the misused one, dropping upon the grass beside Con- 
stance. 

For an hour the feasting and merry-making con- 
tinued and when no one could hold any more Fay sug- 
gested a stroll. 

Billy and Nan had already disappeared in the direc- 
tion of some canoes drawn up on the beach, and it may 
be remarked by the way that when they re-appeared at 
five o’clock — the hour set for the homeward start — 
the young lady wore a class-ring of new and as yet un- 
familiar design: Billy’s hour to blossom forth in it 
had not yet arrived. 

Perhaps the pairing-off that afternoon was signifi- 
cant. Clint strolled up the beach with Constance. 
Beatrice was sent into a realm of bliss by having Snap 
ask her to go see the hot-houses, thereby causing Mrs. 
Harold to look quickly up from the dishes she was 
handing to the jackies. For one moment her eyes and 
Snap’s met. As she turned away her own were dimmed 
and her throat filled. 

Katherine was already walking away with Ned, say- 
ing over her shoulder to Fay, “Come on, pretty man, 
we need you, the odd fellow, to keep us amiable.” 

“Always delighted to be useful, I’m sure,” he an- 
swered. “But won’t you come also. Little Mother?” 

“Powers forbid! Swing this hammock for me, give 
me my book, and let me rest after my busy day,” she 
laughed. 206 


Chapter XX 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 

The picnic party had been absent about an hour, 
which Mrs. Harold had spent in a day-dream, her book 
unopened upon her lap as she swung slowly to-and-fro 
in her big hammock, glad of her “sweet idleness” after 
such an active two hours. Perhaps her dream was 
more in the nature of a reverie, for her thoughts harked 
back through the past eight months to the hour which 
had brought Constance to her and the happiness of 
the ensuing months. She now fully realized that one 
of the two men to whom the girl had grown so dear 
was pretty sure to win her, — ^but which Mrs. Harold 
knew that they had written to her, Clint regularly, and 
Snap as often as under the circumstances he felt right 
to. But Snap had never quite fallen back into his old 
place in Constance’s esteem, this she knew. The girl 
dared not trust herself to wholly believe in him. She 
was courteous and friendly, but she contrived never to 
be alone with him, whereas she was with Clint con- 
stantly. What •was the girl’s attitude toward these 
men? Did her affection sway toward Snap, but doubt 
of him still fill her heart in spite of all he had done 
to restore her confidence ? She had never dared broach 


267 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


the subject to Constance, close as they were to each 
other, for with all her gentle, winning charm, there 
was an inflexibility in her character which forbade 
intrusion. 

Mrs. Harold felt sure that Constance trusted Clint 
implicitly, and trust is a pretty firm foundation for 
love. Would he win out on that.? 

Yet with all his sterling qualities, Mrs. Harold could 
never feel toward Clint as she did toward Snap. 
Women are strange creatures. Is it the sense of being 
necessary to a man which holds that man closer in her 
affection.? She knew she was not in the least necessary 
to Clint. Life apparently held no temptations for 
him, or else he was mentally, morally and physically 
impervious to them ; felt nothing of their power. Snap, 
on the contrary, was the toy of them all, and for Snap 
to conquer and overcome meant the battle of the 
Titans, for there was not a day of his life in which he 
was not beset in one form or another: His quick 
temper constantly got him into difliculties; his indif- 
ference to and disregard of many conventionalities laid 
him open to criticism ; his temperament led him through 
many a Gethsemane of which Clint could have no con- 
ception. Snap had once said to him when things had 
gone somewhat wrong way back in youngster year, and 
Clint had spoken a word of kindly warning: 

‘T appreciate all you say, man, and I know you are 
advising me for my own good, but you’ll never under- 
stand the hell that cuts loose in me sometimes; it isn’t 
in you to understand, and if there is a God to keep 
268 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 

you from doing so I hope He will stand by you all 
your life, for if by any chance you ever run up against 
some of the situations which I am continually running 
up against you’ll need Him and you’ll need Him badly, 
I tell you. What is going to prove my salvation I 
don’t know; thus far I have never found anyone who 
understood me, or who could help me, not even mother, 
and she’s the dearest thing on earth to me, but she has 
always idealized me and thought me little short of a 
saint. There have been a thousand times in my life 
when I’ve longed to go to her and talk over some of my 
problems, and then I have thought it would break her 
heart to be disillusioned, and so I haven’t done it. 
Thafs the hardest part of it all, Clint ! We come 
here just kids in most instances, straight from homes 
where we have been the ‘fibre and core of someone’s 
heart’, and to them we never grow up, — ^we just stay 
kids to the end of the chapter, until perhaps there’s a 
jolt of some sort and then they waken to the fact that 
we’ve been men for several years, and some of us pretty 
poor specimens at that. Yes, I’ve often wondered what 
will slow me down, and if I ever find a pilot what he, 
she, or it will look like. I’d give half my life to find 
one quick, for, heaven knows, I’m not proud of myself 
a little bit.” 

Perhaps Snap had already found his pilot in Mrs. 
Harold. Would he find an able first mate elsewhere.? 

The time slipped away more quickly than Mrs. 
Harold realized and she was presently roused from 
her reverie by the sound of voices. The picnicers were 
269 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


returning. She glanced at her watch. It was half- 
past four. The first to appear were Beatrice, Fay and 
Hill. Behind them walked Ned and a new addition to 
the party, one Lieutenant Broughton. A little further 
behind came Constance, convoyed by Katherine, and 
Mrs. Car dine. Snap and Clint close by them. Snap’s 
face a thundercloud. Mrs. Cardine’s arm lightly en- 
circled Constance’s waist. The girl was strangely pale, 
though two bright-red spots burned upon her cheeks. 
Few girls possessed the self-control which Constance 
possessed, but woe-betide the one who taxed it beyond 
a given point. 

Katherine’s face was simply diabolical. Mrs. Car- 
dine’s made one think of a serpent. 

Mrs. Harold was for a moment dumb with surprise. 
Where had this undesirable addition to her party 
sprung from? Katherine speedily enlightened her by 
running to her and crying: 

“Oh, what do you think? We proved rescuers to the 
victims of a balky benzine buggy. It wouldn’t move 
an inch, so I offered, in your name of course, dear Mrs. 
Harold, to take Mrs. Cardine and Lieutenant Brough- 
ton home in our launch. Katherine did not add that 
she had dropped a hint to Mrs. Cardine the day before 
of the party to be given at Whitehall, or a few other 
suggestions which had acted as a spark to that lady’s 
determination to score a point or two with the girl who 
had won from her the only object her shallow affections 
had ever really centered upon. From the night of his 
270 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 


eventful call Snap had never addressed one word to 
Mrs. Cardine. 

Katherine also had a double game to play. She had 
never forgiven Clint for reporting Ned, little as she 
really cared for the latter, her vanity alone having 
suffered, and she detested Constance because the girl, 
without an effort, had won out where she had failed. 
Katherine would have given a good deal for one serious 
word from Clint. To get even with him, enrage Snap, 
humiliate, as she hoped, the girl whom she felt sure each 
cared for, would be a triumph. 

As Katherine left Constance’s side to run to Mrs. 
Harold, Snap drew closer to the girl. Instantly Mrsv 
Cardine’s arm tightened about her waist, and she said 
archly : 

‘‘Come away from that gay deceiver. Miss Howland. 
You do not know him as I do. Ah, you naughty man,” 
wagging a bejewelled hand at Snap, “how dare you 
use those killing eyes upon this innocent child? She 
is not old enough to be proof against your wiles, nor 
has she known you as long as I have. Oh, Miss How- 
land, the tales I could tell you of the sentimental non- 
sense he has poured into my ears. It’s well I’m im- 
pervious to such infantile babbling. Of course, I under- 
stood that he was merely experimenting against the 
time when he should meet some sweet ingenue like you.” 

During this edifying bit of talk, undoubtedly the 
continuation of a great deal more which had gone 
before, Constance remained absolutely silent and im- 
movable, though her eyes, which never for a moment 

ni 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


had left Mrs. Cardine’s, grew darker and darker. As 
that lady ceased speaking she laid her right hand ever 
so lightly over the soft, characterless one encircling 
her waist, then slowly, but relentlessly closed her own 
muscular fingers upon it. Steadily the clasp tight- 
ened until, had she dared betray herself, Mrs. Cardine 
would have cried out with pain. She tried to withdraw 
her hand. She might as well have tried to draw it from 
a vise, yet only Snap was aware of what was happen- 
ing. Then with a smile which was a revelation to Mrs. 
Cardine, Constance said without the slightest show of 
feeling, or a change of tone: 

“They tell me you are quite a Shakespearean student, 
Mrs. Cardine. May I quote from him, slightly chang- 
ing the quotation? ‘The friends thou hast, and their 
adoption tried, grapple them to thy (side) with hoops 
of steel’. In the case of these friends I have done so 
figuratively, but in your case I am doing so literally, 
for I never expect to find another quite like you. As 

to Snap . Well, you perhaps have the advantage 

of ten years or more over my worldly experience, but 
those I have lived have taught me that gunpowder must 
inevitably meet its match before explosions take place, 
and I have been careful to keep my matches in a 
safety-box, so nothing has been wrecked. I agree with 
you, most men seem to need someone to experiment 
with, and they rarely have to search far for such; I 
dare say Snap has cause for boundless gratitude 
to you for your deep interest in him, and has no doubt 
acquired a vast experience. That makes it lots safer 
272 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 


for us girls to call him chum and — friend, you know. 
And I’m so deeply indebted to you for your interest 
in me too. But I must not deprive Lieutenant Brough- 
ton of your kind interest in him; he is still a novice, I 
think,” and turning with the quickness of a squirrel 
Constance slipped from the circling arm, though she 
still grasped Mrs. Cardine’s hand, which she first raised 
in an airy salutation, and then let drop, no one realiz- 
ing the power thrown into that final grip, as with 
a merry laugh she turned to Snap and Clint, crying : 

‘‘Come, friends, I need you both to help me gather up 
our traps, for I know Tante is anxious to start us upon 
our homeward journey, aren’t you, Tante?” 

Mrs. Harold had been held speechless during this 
scene, which, after all, had occupied only a few mo- 
ments. Never in her life had she suspected Constance 
capable of taking such a stand, and she felt sure that 
some pretty cruel insinuations must have been made by 
Mrs. Cardine during that walk from the stalled motor- 
car to bring about such a climax. 

And Clint and Snap? More than once Clint had 
been upon the point of coming to the girl’s rescue, but 
the expression upon Snap’s face had restrained him; 
he felt sure his interference would precipitate a crisis. 
Now, however, he sprang forward, saying: 

“Me for the pile of shawls! You for the hammock, 
Snap I” 

Fifteen minutes later the launch was steaming home- 
ward, Katherine in a most incomprehensible frame of 
mind, Constance sitting rather silent at Mrs. Harold’s 
27S 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


side, Mrs. Cardine and her devoted lieutenant well 
forward, the former nursing a wrist upon which a 
vivid red mark gave token of the lady having met her 
Waterloo. Snap and Clint seemed drawn closer to 
each other in some way, though now and again the gray 
eyes shot a troubled glance at the dark ones. There 
was less of a holiday spirit on board than upon the 
outward trip. Conversation was somewhat per- 
functory. 

As the party disembarked at the Maryland Avenue 
float, two midshipmen whom Constance knew but 
slightly were putting off in a canoe. They raised their 
hats to her and hailed Snap with: 

“How’s the weather beyond the Santee.?” 

“Too heavy for that craft,” called Snap. “Wind 
is freshening. Advise you to put up the river.” 

“Oh, I guess it’s safe enough. We’ll be back inside 
an hour.” 

“Well, look alive then,” warned Snap, and just then 
Mrs. Harold asked: 

“Aren’t you coming up to Wilmot with us, son.?” 

“Sorry I can’t, but I’ve got to get this tub safely 
back to her moorings. I’m responsible, you know. 
Thank you just as much.” 

Bidding Snap good-bye, Mrs. Harold and her party 
went on to Wilmot Hall. Mrs. Cardine and her de- 
voted lieutenant, with hasty farewells, went upon their 
way with much food for thought. 

It was after six when Snap ordered the coxswain to 
shove off and make for the launch’s berth. It was not 


^74 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 


reallj necessary for him to go to her moorings, but he 
was in no mood to join Mrs. Harold’s party just then. 
With closed eyes he leaned wearily back against a 
stanchion supporting the canvas canopy of the launch, 
the smile gone from his face. Presently he murmured: 

“And I am responsible for that scene. My God, if 
I could have spared her that humiliation ! Chums and 
friends. My loyal little girl.” 

Amidships the jackies talked together in low tones. 
Presently one sprang to his feet, turned toward Snap 
and saluting reported: 

“Canoe in distress on starboard bow, sir!” 

In an instant Snap was upon his feet. Already the 
canoe had been sighted by the lookout on board the 
Santee and the signals given. Snap’s orders were 
sharp and decisive and the launch plunged forward 
under full headway. 

The strong tide running out had met the stiff south- 
east afternoon breeze from the bay and there was a 
nasty, choppy sea. It was, as Snap had warned, no 
place for a canoe. The two men in the one ahead, a 
first classman and a youngster, were far from expert 
in handling it and Snap knew that neither could swim. 

Such disasters happen with overwhelming speed. 
Before the launch could reach it, the little craft had 
turned turtle and both men were in the water. The 
wind quickly carried the canoe far beyond their reach. 

There were a few sharp, quick orders to the men in 
the launch and then Snap was overboard, swimming 
with long, powerful strokes for the youngster, while 
^75 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


the jackie put over after the upper classman, who was 
nearer at hand. 

Snap grasped his man and the struggle began, for 
the youngster was insane with terror. The jackie 
strove to reach the other, but he was a poor swimmer 
and far lighter than the midshipman. Snap got his 
charge to the launch, where the coxswain hauled him 
on board, little the worse for his ducking, and then 
struck out for the other two, now in a desperate 
struggle for life. Twice had the larger man gone under 
only to be pluckily dived for by the little sailor lad, 
when Snap shouted: 

“Steady, Coughlin! Hold on just a second longer!” 
but at that instant the drowning man struck the jackie 
a stunning blow with his thrashing arm. Coughlin 
went limp as Snap caught him and the other man dis- 
appeared beneath the water. 

By this time aid was being rushed from the Santee 
and other launches were also hurrying to the scene as 
Snap, now in pretty bad shape, was pulled aboard his 
own launch with his insensible burden, the launch mak- 
ing for shore at full speed, leaving the others to search 
for the drowned man. 

Meanwhile over in Wilmot, as the men who had 
stopped in quarters long enough to hastily shift into 
their service uniforms were bidding Mrs. Harold and 
the girls good-night up in Middies’ Haven the bugle 
over in the yard sounded colors. 

How softly thrilling were the notes as the flag flut- 
tered down. Constance, who loved the call, ran to the 
276 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 


window to watch the flag. For some unacountable 
reason the halyards fouled and for a moment the flag 
hung at half-mast. A strange shudder passed over the 
girl. Just then Mrs. Harold’s ’phone rang. Clint, 
who happened to be nearest it, took olf the receiver. 

At the first words the man’s face went white, and he 
cried : 

“My God! What.?” 

All turned to stare at him. In an instant he had 
recovered himself. 

“I’ll be over at once,” he answered as he hung up 
the receiver and turning to the others said: 

“I’m needed at once in quarters. There has been 
an accident. I’ll ’phone out to you as soon as I’ve 
learned particulars?” 

“Who? What?” cried all in chorus. 

“Some one drowned, I’m afraid, but I must go,” he 
answered as he hurried away. 

But the news filled Wilmot before he reached 
quarters, and, as usual with first reports, it was exag- 
gerated : Midshipmen Hunter and Ludas had been 
drowned, and one of the jackies had nearly lost his 
life also. People were flocking to the yard from all 
directions. 

When the last guest had hurried away from Middies’ 
Haven, Constance turned and without a word went to 
her room. 

Mrs. Harold watched her departure with closed lips, 
then dropping upon her chair, clasped her hands before 
her eyes, murmuring: 


277 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 

‘‘Oh, my little girl ! and my boy, how can I let him 
slip out of my life, how can I?” 

It was nearly an hour before Clint could ’phone the 
truth to them and neither the older woman nor the 
younger one ever forgot the agony of it. 

Long before Clint or the others could get over to 
tell them of the accident, they had heard the whole 
story from others, and Constance’s cheeks took on a 
deeper tinge as she heard the details of the rescue. She 
was proud of him, but almost appalled when she real- 
ized how proud, for the shock had opened her eyes 
to her own feelings as nothing else could have done and 
she was filled at once with a great j oy and a great fear. 
She now realized that in this man’s force, in his power 
to exercise a self-control hitherto unknown to him; in 
his determination to hold to his resolution that she 
should learn to respect him, to trust him, and to give 
her the opportunity to choose another if she so wished, 
lay a strength of character of which Hart Murrayi 
never even dreamed, and of which Clint’s passive nature 
was incapable. And with this knowledge was born a 
great yearning for his presence. 

She was alone when Snap came hurrying in a little 
later. She had longed for this meeting, and yet dreaded 
it. Could she maintain her self-control? For a mo- 
ment she stood very white and still. 

“I’m so sorry you were startled, Constance,” said 
Snap, crossing the room quickly to take the hands she 
impulsively held out to him. “I can’t understand how 
the report got so twisted. I was none the worse for 
278 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 

my swim, but wish I had nof failed so miserably. Poor 
Ludas !” 

“Failed!” said Constance tensely, impulsively press- 
ing his hands. 

He clasped her’s more firmly and looked into her 
eyes as though searching her inmost thoughts. 

“Yes, had I not failed, Ludas would be over in Ban- 
croft this minute. I thought I had more sand, but I 
gave out at the critical moment.” 

“You saved two lives as it was. Oh, Snap, I am so 
proud of you! Forgive me if I doubted and under- 
valued.” 

“Forgive you! Constance, that was the last con- 
scious thought I had out yonder. When I felt every- 
thing slipping away somehow your words, ‘Chums and 
friends’, kept ringing in my ears, and I think it was 
worth it all to have that ring out above all other 
sounds. Those words mean a whole lot more to me 
than you realize. I’ll never lose the right to claim that 
friendship if I can possibly help it, and this room holds 
all that is dearest to me on earth. But don’t worry 
about me. I am none the worse physically for my experi- 
ence, but I’d give half my life if it would bring Ludas 
back again. But I must see the Little Mother a mo- 
ment before I go back to quarters. This awful thing 
has knocked routine completely out to-night. It was a 
wonder I could get over here at all.” 

“Tante is down in Ludas’ mother’s room. Snap. She 
went to her the moment she learned the truth.” 

“Then don’t call her, but give her my dear love when 

^79 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


she comes up. Good-bye, Constance. I wish I could 
stay longer, but I’m needed over yonder,” and Snap 
shook hands as though the incidents of the past two 
hours were the merest trifles save for the concern they 
had caused those he cared most for, and the loss of his 
classmate. 

As his footsteps died away down the corridor Con- 
stance turned to the window to look toward the yard 
with unseeing eyes. Why did she feel such an over- 
whelming sense of disappointment? She knew Snap 
could not tarry longer. That he had been able to get 
out at all was surprising. Still — well, he was keeping 
his word to the letter, and was not that exactly what 
she had wished? 

Suddenly her eyes filled with tears. 

What was the emotion which caused them to well up? 
Dashing them away she turned to her desk and wrote: 

^‘Hart, I know now that it must be ^No’. I am 
sorry, old friend, but it is no use to keep you waiting 
any longer for your answer. Constance.” 

For days the shadow of that catastrophe lay upon 
Annapolis, but June week was close at hand and a 
thousand interests claimed all connected with the 
Academy, and the last week of May held an Incident 
which aroused a good deal of feeling among the men. 

Each year the competition between the twelve com- 
panies for the colors is keen. This year it had been 
exceptionally so. Clint’s company had worked hard 
^80 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 


and thus far was decidedly in the lead, its points for 
general excellency, efficiency, etc., giving it a wide 
margin. Moreover, several of his men had made a fine 
showing on the rifie team and all this counted to the 
good. 

His close rival was Burlington’s company, the 
Eighth, and Burlington was determined to win if he 
could possibly do so. Burlington and Clint had never 
had much in common and Burlington was not a man to 
take defeat gracefully. There was a good deal of the 
bulldog in him. 

A few nights after the accident Snap was in Clint’s 
room. They were running over the points as Clint cal- 
culated them. 

“Why, it’s a dead sure thing for the Fifth,” said 
Snap. 

“What’s a dead sure thing.?” asked Morris, enter- 
ing at that moment. 

“Clint’s points on colors,” answered Snap positively. 

“The deuce it is! Not on your life. Burlington has 
him beaten out by twenty points at least,” retorted 
Morris sharply. 

“On what score I’d like to know?” demanded Snap. 

“On infantry and artillery drills, of course,” insisted 
Morris. 

“Yes, but that wouldn’t begin to bring him up to 
the Fifth’s. Our range score means something, man,” 
insisted Clint. 

For a moment Morris looked daunted. He had 
entirely overlooked team points and knew Burlington 
281 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


had also. Then he laughed a disagreeable sort of laugh 
and said: 

“Well, it’s too late for your men to qualify on that 
now, and I saw Burlington’s count as I came up.” 

“The devil you did!” stormed Snap. 

“Yes, I did.” 

“Well, if that’s so and you think it’s such a cinch 
I’ll go see the Com. about it,” cried Clint. “I’m not 
going to sit still and let all this slip away from my 
company without half a try for it. They’ve worked 
like blazes and by thunder they’ll get their reward if I 
can get it for them.” 

“That’s up to you,” replied Morris, with an indif- 
ferent shrug of his shoulders. “So long. I’ve got to 
bone,” and he left the study. But boning was far from 
his thoughts. Presently he was in Burlington’s room 
and a moment later Burlington was on his way to the 
Com.’s office. Clint had to pass Burlington’s room on 
his way out. As he did so he was hailed by Ned. 

“Thought you were going to bone.?^” remarked Clint. 

“I am, but stopped in here to verify what I’d just 
said up in your room. See here,” and he laid a closely 
written sheet upon the table. There were two or three 
other men in the room, all Burlington’s friends, who 
gathered around apparently deeply interested in the 
argument. Clint, never suspicious, did not realize that 
he was being held up. A half-hour slipped by, then 
warning call sounded, and it was too late to adjust 
anything that night. As he left the room he came face 
to face with Snap, who looked at him in blank amaze- 


CHUMS AND FRIENDS 


ment. Burlington’s room was about the last one he 
would have expected to see Clint coming from. 

“Thought you were over at the Com.’s?” 

“Morris wanted me to look at the points as Burling- 
ton had them.” 

Snap looked at Clint a second and then said with 
intense disgust: 

“O you poor darned fool. So they held you up, 
did they.? Well, Burlington has just come back from 
the Com.’s and maybe I won’t make things warm for 
a few of them. You get along up to your room. All 
you need is a toy rattle.” 

Clint looked at him incredulously. 

“Yes, I mean it, man ! I didn’t think you’d be such 
a dead easy mark.” 

Without a word Clint went back to his room. 

The next day Snap kept his word, and a few found 
quarters quite as warm as he had predicted they would 
be. Katherine Bell’s second scheme had failed, care- 
fully as she thought she had coached Ned in his part 
of the little game to be played. Had Burlington’s 
company won the colors Katherine would have pre- 
sented them the following Monday, — so Burlington 
had promised Ned. When the points were finally 
counted Clint’s company had won by over sixty. 

And then came the great day for them to be pre- 
sented. 


Chapter XXI 


IN JUNE WEEK 

It was a gay and festive crowd of onlookers in every 
sense of the word which flocked toward the parade- 
ground and filled the piazzas of Upshur and Rodger’s 
Row that perfect June afternoon. At five-forty-five a 
perfect kaleidoscope of colors moved and swayed at 
the south edge of the ground, as beautifully gowned 
women, carrying dainty parasols, awaited the arrival 
of the brigade. 

The colors were to be presented to the Fifth Com- 
pany by Constance. Very pretty the girl looked as 
she stood beside the superintendent in the reviewing 
stand, gowned in a white lingerie gown, with its pale 
pink slip giving the faintest hint of color through the 
delicate embroidery and lace, and a large picture hat 
covered with pink roses. Mrs. Harold sat just behind 
them as delighted as a girl at the honor conferred upon 
the one so dear to her. 

The parade stood at retreat before review. A quick, 
decisive order was given and the victorious company 
marched to the centre of the square. Clint’s heart was 
beating many throbs beyond its normal number as the 
girl advanced upon the superintendent’s arm, her color 

284 


IN JUNE WEEK 


heightened by the thrill and excitement of the moment. 
How self-possessed and dignified she was ! What a 
light filled her eyes as the dear old flag was placed in 
her hands by the color-bearer who had stepped to her 
side. The next moment she had placed it in Clint’s 
hands. Then the second flag, the brigade colors, was 
handed to her. She laid them in Clint’s arms with the 
softly spoken words: 

“God guard both flags and those who bear them. I 
shall never know a greater honor.” 

He never knew what he replied. It was all a con- 
fused dream to him. Then with a gracious bow and 
smile to the company watching her so intently, Con- 
stance walked back to the reviewing stand and Clint 
called out his orders to his company, — three rousing 
cheers for the girl presenting the colors, and they were 
given with a will. 

Early in December Clint had asked Constance to go 
to the class german with him. This had rather nettled 
Snap, who had fully intended to do so, but Clint fore- 
stalled him, so the next best thing for Snap was the 
June ball. 

Since the Whitehall picnic Constance had seen very 
little of Clint, his many duties as company commander 
and the color contest having claimed nearly every mo- 
ment of his time. This had been a keen disappointment 
to him, for slow and deliberate in arriving at a decision 
as he was, Clint had made up his mind that the girl 
who had come into his life nine months before was the 
one for all future time if he could win her. But day 
285 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


after day slipped by and he found no chance to see her 
alone. 

Constance had felt both glad and sorry for this. 
She now fully realized how deeply he cared for her, but 
wished to spare him the pain of the word she knew 
she must speak if the situation came to a crisis; for 
that reason she had striven to avoid being alone with 
him and half regretted her promise to dance the german 
with him. 

Snap’s attitude since the canoe accident had some- 
what piqued her pride, and she flushed as she realized 
that she had met him more than half way that after- 
noon, remorse at having misjudged him and admiration 
for his deed having carried her beyond herself. How 
little she realized the degree of self-control it had re- 
quired upon his part to refrain from taking her into 
his arms at that moment. But he knew more of that 
episode at the picnic than she suspected. He had hoped 
that Clint would have his chance then, and he knew 
that Katherine had balked that hope. 

He was as attentive as ever,, anticipating her 
slightest wish, alert to every source of pleasure open 
to her, constantly on hand to escort her when duties 
did not claim him. But not a word or sign verging 
upon sentiment, although more than once she had 
caught an expression in the dark eyes which almost 
startled her. 

The night of the german Constance sat waiting for 
Clint in Middies’ Haven. To carry out a certain 
color scheme all who attended the class german were 
286 


IN JUNE WEEK 


to wear white, and Constance’s gown, a gift from her 
aunt, was a fairy-like gauze with threads of gold glis- 
tening through it, and gold trimmings. It was made 
dancing length, for she detested a train. Very dainty 
and girlish she looked as she stood there. Clint soon 
appeared, immaculate in white service, his sword clank- 
ing at his side. The scene the Armory presented cannot 
be described. Hundreds of electric lights, yards upon 
yards of festooned bunting and gay banners, carrying 
out the class colors, the gaily decorated favor stands, 
and the exquisitely gowned girls with their white uni- 
formed escorts. 

Hundreds of people crowded the Armory floor, hun- 
dreds of friends, escorted by second classmen, were look- 
ing on from the gallery, for only first classmen are 
allowed upon the floor. It was a fairy-land scene as the 
couples followed the leader of the german, silks rustling, 
swords clanking, or held aloft in a glittering arch for 
the dancers to march beneath them. One figure followed 
another in rapid succession, as colored lights were 
thrown upon the gay throng. Once looked upon a class 
german at the Naval Academy is never forgotten. 

Midnight had struck when Clint led Constance out of 
the Armory and into the moonlit yard. Mrs. Harold, 
escorted by Snap, was just ahead of them. He had 
not danced the german, preferring to look on with Mrs. 
Harold. 

“What a night !” cried Constance. ^‘Will there ever, 
ever be another like it.?^ I hate to think it is over. You 
have made possible a pleasure I shall remember as 
287 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


long as I live, Clint. It has been perfect ! perfect ! from 
the beginning to the end.” 

‘‘It isn’t ended yet. Will you come with me through 
the yard for the last time.?”’ 

“Why, we can walk to-morrow; it is so late.” 

“Only quarter past twelve. It is bright as day and 
there will be dozens of others about.” 

“I’m afraid Tante will want to go right back to 
Wilmot, for you know there is another dance to-morrow 
night,” demurred Constance, looking up into his face. 
“And what shall I do with all my german favors?” 

“Yes, I know, but to-morrow night will be Snap’s. 
To-night is mine ; my very own. Come, to please me,** 

“I will come,” she answered, “but I must ask Tante 
to carry my favors out to Wilmot Hall for me. Do 
you mind, Tante? We will follow you and Snap pres- 
ently.” 

“Let me carry your favors out for you, Constance,” 
said Snap quietly, but she never forgot the look of 
pain in his eyes as he spoke those simple words. 
“Good-night. Come, Little Mother, I’ll take you 
home.” The arm upon which Mrs. Harold’s hand 
rested trembled. 

As they moved away she said to him: 

“Dear, are you more than human?” 

“Don’t, please don’t! I can’t bear it to-night,” he 
whispered. 

“Shall we sit here?” asked Clint as he and Con- 
stance reached a seat placed in a little holly grove in 
Lover’s Lane. Strangely enough the spot was de- 
S88 


IN JUNE WEEK 


serted. Constance sat down and looked off toward the 
shimmering Severn. 

“I don’t want to keep you here long, Constance,” he 
began, “but I wanted you all to myself to-night. I 
have not been able to see you alone since we were at 
Whitehall, and — and — I want to finish what I began 
to say when — when we were interrupted that afternoon. 
Will you listen, dear.?” 

He laid his hand upon hers. 

She looked up at him, sweetness, tenderness, and 
purity in her soft eyes, and laid her other hand over 
his. 

“I can’t pretend to misunderstand,” she said gently, 
“but — but please don’t go any further, Clint — 
please ” 

“Don’t you want me to tell you, dear.?” he asked, 
placing his arm along the back of the bench. “You’ve 
seemed so perfect, so wonderful to me from the first 
moment I met you. I may not have made you under- 
stand quite.” He stopped and looked away. “But this 
may be my only chance and I can’t go away without 
telling you.” 

“Clint, can’t we keep the friendship just where it 
is.?” The voice was wonderfully soft and appealing. 

“Not to tell you that I love you.? That you are 
dearer to me than anything on earth.? Couldn’t you 
learn to care for me in time.? I wasn’t even sure of 
myself at first, but I am now, and I want you, Con- 
stance, I want your love. Can’t you give it to me, 
dear?” 


289 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


The arm upon the bench was raised and she felt her- 
self drawn toward him. Gently but firmly she drew 
away. 

“Don’t, Clint, for it can’t be. Let us leave it just 
where it has been — our good comradeship, I mean. It 
has been like a long sunny day. We’ll try to remember 
it so.” 

“You can’t? You can’t His voice was full of 
both fear and tenderness. 

“No, dear, I can’t. I hoped you would understand. 
I tried to make you in my letters, just chummy ones, 
in answer to yours, you know.” 

“Yes, that is true. There was never a word which 
I could construe into anything deeper than the friend- 
ship I knew you felt for me. Sometimes, though, I felt 
there was someone else?” He felt her start, and look- 
ing closer saw the blood mount to her cheeks. 

“Forgive me, I had no right to ask you. Only 
answer me this: Has there been from the first?” 

“There was no one at first, Clint.” 

* 

“Have I been too tardy? too deliberate? If I had 

made you understand sooner ?” He had taken 

both her hands and was looking into her face. 

“I am afraid not. Forgive me if I wound you. I 
have always liked, always trusted you; I always shall. 
But I can’t — can’t give you the — the love you ask for, 
Clint. I tried to keep you from telling me. Once or 
twice when you have done little things I’ve tried to 
make you understand and yet ” 

Clint rose and twice paced silently back and forth 

290 


IN JUNE WEEK 


in front of her, with bowed head. Constance watched 
him with beating heart, her hands pressed to her burn- 
ing cheeks, — it was cruelly hard for the girl to wound 
this friend so deeply. 

When he stopped before her she rose involuntarily. 
Taking both her hands in his he said: 

“I must ask just once more. Can^t you, Constance?” 
It took all her courage to look him straight in the 
eyes and answer gravely: 

‘‘No, Clint, I can’t. Please forgive me for hurting 
you so ” 

“There is nothing to forgive. Never by look or act 
have you led me to believe that I was more than — 
friend. We will try to keep it so.” And taking her 
arm he led her silently back to Wilmot, where he bade 
her good-night in the great reception hall thronged 
with merry people and she went slowly up-stairs alone. 

As Clint entered Bancroft Hall he came face to face 
with Snap. Each stopped as though petrified. What 
the past hour had been to these two men no one but 
their Creator knew. Without a word Clint held out his 
hand to his friend. Never again could such a hand- 
clasp pass between these two. Then each hurried to 
his room to look out over the gleaming Chesapeake 
until the soft light of dawn crept up over the eastern 
shore, and in the trees beneath their windows rose a 
careless, ceaseless torrent of song. As the sun cast its 
crimson glory upon the bay, one rose from his chair 
and with a sigh of utter weariness, murmured: “Hill 
once said I found things coming my way too easily 
291 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


and I’m afraid he was right, I — waited too long and 
took too much for granted. But Constance, it is hard 
to give you up.” 

On the floor below the man looking upon the bay 
was standing, his face set and white. He had not 
changed his position since entering the room shortly 
after one o’clock. As the sun rose and flooded the 
world he stretched both arms toward it, his lips barely 
forming the one word ‘‘Hope”. 


Chapter XXII 


“my love came to me as a wild rose” 

{Adapted) 

It was drawing near twelve o’clock. June week would 
soon be numbered among things past. The vast Arm- 
ory was crowded. The strains of the band most inspir- 
ing. Light, laughter, joy, color and beauty every- 
where. 

At Mrs. Waltham’s request Clint had asked Beatrice 
to the June ball. How little the girl suspected the 
torture of that night. 

With the strange change which one night’s pain had 
brought into his face — for during those hours youth 
had passed forever, to be succeeded by a man’s 
stronger and deeper outlook upon life, he moved thither 
and yonder among the dancers. If Beatrice wondered 
at the quiet dignity of his manner she gave no sign. 
Only two present realized to the full the ache in the 
man’s heart that night, and theirs ached in deepest 
sympathy. 

Never had Snap appeared to such an advantage. If 
the night’s vigil had brought a new dignity to Clint, 
to this man its doubts and hopes had proved crucial in 
their test; they had refined the metal, cast out the 
dross. The old impetuous, passionate nature had be- 
293 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


come subservient to will. The dark eyes which had 
often snapped so suggestively, or blazed so danger- 
ously, held a softer light to-night, yes, almost a tender 
one as they rested upon Clint, as though beseeching 
this friend’s forgiveness for the wound he knew he 
must inflict. When he looked at Constance her eyes 
fell before his. 

Never had he seemed so full of vigorous manhood. 
Never had his grace and singular charm been so em- 
phasized. Supper ended, he said: 

“Will you come outside with me, Constance? You 
look done up. This week has been a strenuous one 
for everybody. I don’t see how the girls stand it. 
Such a rush every day and dances every night.” 

“I believe I’m nearly ‘done up,’ and ” she did 

not finish. 

Snap glanced at her as he laid her scarf across her 
shoulders, then said: 

“We will go up on the colonnade.” 

They ascended the Armory stairs and stepped out 
upon the colonnade. The bay glittered and shimmered 
in the rays of the full moon ; the great columns gleamed 
silvery white; the vast buildings towered above them. 
Within the Armory dancing had been resumed and 
people were hurrying back. No others were on the 
colonnade though below them many couples strolled 
about. Snap led her to the stone steps and she sank 
upon them, saying: 

“I’m so tired to-night.” The voice held a note of 

294 


MY LOVE CAME AS A WILD ROSE 


sadness as well as weariness in it which he was quick 
to note. He leaned against the railing facing her. 

“Won’t you sit down and rest too? You must be 
nearly worn out, Snap. If the week has been a hard 
one for us what must it have been for you men, with 
drills and parades every day?” 

“Perhaps I do not realize how hard it has been, or 
else I am too husky to be conscious of bodily fatigue,” 
he smiled. 

She shook her head. “No one is too strong to feel 
that, I think.” 

“Perhaps I have a talisman which makes me forget 
it,” he said, bending to look into her face. 

“Your diploma?” she smiled. “Yes, that ought to 
be a pretty good talisman. If I had attained to any- 
thing so splendid I’d want more than that gold stripe 
on my sleeve to prove it, or a slouchy cap,” she ended, 
laughing nervously. “Why do you men delight in re- 
moving the grommet from your caps the very instant 
you get your diplomas?” 

“Never mind the ‘slouchy caps,’ as you call them. I 
didn’t bring you out here to discuss my uniform,” he 
answered, fully alive to the nervousness which was re- 
sponsible for the trivial words. 

Then reaching forward he gently lifted the glitter- 
ing silver spangled scarf from her shoulders. 

“Please — just for a moment — then I will return it. 
It is so mild that you will not feel chilled.” 

“Oh, I’m not afraid of taking cold,” she interrupted 
quickly. 


295 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


“No, I would not have removed it had I feared that. 
AVill you stand up just a moment, Constance? Yes, 
just there where the moonlight falls full upon you. I 
want to — to look at you. You are so beautiful, yet 
so unconscious of your beauty; therein lies the charm. 
No — no — please don’t move,” as the girl, coloring at 
his words, moved as though to resume her seat. He 
laid a detaining hand upon her. “The arms and neck 
so white, the face so like a wild rose, and the hair — it 
is wonderful, wonderful, yet not so wonderful as the 
eyes, for they reveal the soul, a thing so pure, so white 
that mine shrinks from approaching it. Yes, little 
girl, you are very beautiful — but you have never looked 
as you do this moment standing there bathed in the 
clear moonlight. God must have made this night for 
you. But sit down ; you are trembling. Are you 
afraid of me, dear?” 

He dropped upon the step beside her, replacing the 
scarf about her shoulders. She turned to look toward 
the bay. The sensitive lips quivered, but she did not 
speak. He took her hand, gently removed her glove, 
and laid the slender fingers upon his own palm, saying : 

“It is so small to hold such power. I could crush it 
with so little effort. He raised it, pressed his lips to 
it, then laid it upon his knee, stroking it absently as 
he looked out across the silvery water. She strove to 
withdraw it, but his hold tightened upon it as he 
started, and asked in a voice full of tenderness: 

“Constance, how am I to put into words the thoughts 
which are surging, surging to my lips? Last night was 
296 


MY LOVE CAME AS A WILD ROSE 


such a cruel one of doubt and hope. Great God, I 
never realized until that moment what life would seem 
like if you dropped out of it ; how much you have done 
to make a man of me and to teach me in your own 
beautiful, though forceful way what life stands for. 
What womanhood can mean, what men may achieve, 
what the Service represents, and for what the words 
‘for God and our country’ stand. I owe you more than 
a lifetime of love and devotion can ever repay you, 
dear, and no one realizes as I do at this moment 
how utterly unworthy I am to ask you to share yours 
with me, but to-night I am standing at the portal of 
the holy of holies, longing to enter, yet alive to my 
unfitness to do so. Did you do wrong to refuse a better 
man — for I know you did. No, — ^he has not said one 
word — don’t look at me in that way — there was no 
need ; his eyes told me all when I met him in the corridor 
last night. I know how hard it must have been to 
say ‘No’ to such a man as Clint. I realize the pain it 
caused you, and what it must have meant to him to 
hear that word from your lips, and God knows, I pity 
him with all my heart ! But what, — ^what is my answer 
to be, dear? I’ve waited so long for my sentence.” 

He drew her to her feet, placed his arm about her, 
raised her face to his and looked into the eyes upon 
which tears rested. She felt the strong arm about her 
tremble. 

“Won’t the words come, my darling? Then choose 
your own way of answering me,” he said very gently. 

With a quick little indrawing of the breath, she 

297 


THE MAID OF MIDDIES’ HAVEN 


raised her arms and laid them about his neck, nestling 
her face in his breast. For a time he held her close, 
his heart beating rapidly. Then he said in a hushed 
voice : 

“Dear heart, dear heart, can it be true.^^ What am I 
that this should be mine.? What have you given me? 
May God deal with me as I with you. Let me look 
into your eyes, dear — eyes so pure and so true. And — 
may I? I, who have never before in my life waited to 
ask leave, — but it seems almost a sacrilege to me now. 
Press them to mine first — voluntarily — it will seem 
holier that way.” 

He never forgot the love light which filled them as 
her eyes were raised to his, nor the velvety softness of 
the lips, pressed so lightly to his own. The moon over- 
head flooded the world with its light. From the bay 
floated toward them the droning song of the “Heave- 
ho” of the fishermen, already weighing anchor. In the 
tower the clock boomed out one-two, its strokes echoed 
by the bell upon the Olympia lying at anchor beyond 
the sea-wall. 

“June week is ended, my darling. My academic life 
is closed, and see, the people are leaving the Armory. 
We must go back. The Little Mother will wonder at 
our absence — ^but, no, she will understand. She has 
from the beginning. There is only one other in this 
great world dearer to me than she is — my wild rose; 
Clint once called you a wild rose, and I’ve never for- 
gotten it. Dear old Clint. But before I take you back 
298 


MY LOVE CAME AS A WILD ROSE 


let me hear you speak the words I have so longed to 
hear ” 

‘‘And they are?” she hesitated. 

“What does the heart prompt, dear one?” 

There was a moment’s hesitation, then the soft, white 
arms were once more laid about his neck and he bent to 
catch the words, “Dear heart.” 

The man stood silent for a moment, as though never 
again could he experience one so holy. Then repeated 
softly : 


My love came to me as a wild rose 
In the budding, sweet, springtide; 

A sweet hope born with the risen morn, 
Forever at my side. 

And her eyes are the stars at twilight, 

And her face is the rose’s bloom. 

Lifting up from the petal’s cup 
The soul of a rich perfume. 

O, Love that has come as a wild rose, 

O heart in the rose’s fold. 

You are mine to-night by the new-born light. 
By the faith and the story of old — 

You are mine to-night, O Love, by the right 
Of the love which my heart doth hold.” 


299 





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